The Solo Hunts
by Kyriebess
Summary: Sam and Dean argue and end up taking on seperate hunts in the same town. But will they be there for each other when things get rough? A learning experience for both...As always angst and banter throughout! Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Dean, Protective!both COMPLETE!
1. The Split

_Disclaimer: I'm borrowing Sam and Dean and their Supernatural world. The other characters and plot came from me. Also, I'm not from Rome, GA,(or Berry College) nor have I ever been there. I am basing the girls of Berry college off of a stereotyped version of sorority girls. Real life sorority girls (was in one myself) and the women of Berry College are probably much deeper and less, um, bimboic (in general)._

**Warnings: This story contains implied sex. It's not explicit by any means- but if you don't like the implication- don't read. Along the same lines, Dean is a bit of a man whore (again it's only implied) in this so if that's gonna bother you- don't read. And finally, there will be bad language, but nothing that wouldn't be on the show.**  
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Warning 2: There are girls in this. HOWEVER! I hate girls in these stories, but alas, I needed them for the plot. They are written to be helpless, over-sexed, and bimboic. If I do my job right- they will have no distinctive personalities and only a limited amount of lines.**

_And now, if you're still reading, on with the story!_

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**Chapter 1- Split**

Sam rolled his eyes as he watched his brother 'turn on the charm' to a rather large group of college-aged girls. Dean had been sitting at the bar for over an hour, chatting it up with the ladies. After getting a beer, Sam had seated himself at a dark table in the corner of the room- away from the bar's bustle. The sports bar was crowded and the majority of its patrons appeared to be college-aged and more than likely out to "get some".

Sam turned his eyes away from his brother and back to the Rome News-Tribune, the local newspaper he picked up in the town. He was still looking for their next hunt. Their last hunt had ended a few days ago and had ran fairly smoothly. No one had gotten thrown anywhere and other than Dean accidentally slamming his own fingers in a door, an event that had Sam mercilessly teasing his brother, neither brother had gotten hurt.

In the paper, the top story of the day was the fireman who resuscitated a cat. Sam shook his head, he was happy for the cat- really. But that wasn't the kind of thing he was looking for. He continued scanning the stories, only looking up to thank the waitress who replaced his beer. Sam stopped his scanning on the last page of news…before the sports section. Buried on the bottom of the page was a headline that read, "Fourth Unexplained Death at Construction Site". He hadn't read the article, but he knew that he had found what he was looking for.

Before reading the short article, Sam took his head out of the paper to gauge where his brother was. From his seat in the dark corner he looked over at the bar where he had last seen Dean. However, now all he could see by the bar was a large mass of blonde heads. The blonde heads appeared to be circling something and Sam shook his head in disbelief and partial disgust when he looked down and saw his brother's feet standing in the center of the blonde circle. Really, how could one man flirt with ten women at the same time? Really?

Once again rolling his eyes at his brother, Sam looked back down to read the article. It didn't give much detail, only said that four construction workers had been found dead at a new construction site. Each worker had been found on a different morning after serving as the night guard for the site. The article went on to mention that the construction company would be putting up a fence in place of the night guard from this point forth. Sam couldn't help but think that the company should have done that after the first death.

Nothing was explicit, but there was certainly enough information given in the article to warrant further supernatural investigation. Sam looked up from his thoughts and jumped. Dean was crouched down at the table staring at him.

Seeing his brother jump, Dean smirked, "Looks like your reflexes are getting a little slow there, kiddo."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Yeah?" And then glared, "How you're fingers doing kiddo?"

Dean's smirk left and he glared back. Apparently Sam was in a bad mood. It no doubtedly had something to do with the fact that he was in a bar, but Dean honestly couldn't understand Sam's need to fight against having fun. He decided to ignore his brother's bad mood and share his own good news. "Sam, you're not gonna believe this."

Sam sighed, his annoyance replaced by preemptive exhaustion upon seeing Dean's excitement, "What?"

Dean continued to ignore his brother's mood, "You see those girls over there?"

Sam looked at the girls who were all smiling and giggling in his direction; whatever Dean was about to say…it wasn't going to be good.

Dean smiled back at the girls and then continued talking to Sam, "Dude! You are _not _going to believe this. I was sitting there minding my own business…"

Sam laughed, choking on his beer, and interrupting his brother, "You're right I don't believe it."

Dean glared again; Sam's mood was beginning to annoy him. "Man, would you just quit it and listen?"

Seeing Dean was serious, Sam turned his attention to his brother. Dean resumed the story, "Like I was saying," he shot Sam a look, "I was minding my own business when I overheard that whole group of girls talking about this ghost that's haunting their dorm. They were going through all these legends about how to destroy it…Dude, they were even talking about having a séance and channeling the spirit into a box and then burying the box." Dean shook his head at the absurdity of that idea and Sam once again found himself fearful of where this was going.

Dean saw his brother's look and decided to skip to the end, "Make a long story short…I offered our services." Sam closed his eyes, yep, he was afraid that was where the story was going.

Dean didn't understand Sam's lack of enthusiasm, "Sam. An all girls' dorm…"

Upon receiving no reaction from his brother he tried again, "All girls…all INCREDIBLY hot girls…" he pointed to the girls by the bar, "…standing there?…In desperate need of our help?" He waved his hands at his brother, "Come on man! Some of them have already assured me of payment." After a pause, he looked his brother in the eyes, "You get what I'm…"

Sam waved his hands and made a face interrupting his brother before Dean could further to explain what he meant, "Yeah. I get it. But Dean, you told all those girls what we do? What the hell man?"

Dean shrugged, "Sam, it's not like they know us or like we'll ever be in this town again. Besides, they don't think we're crazy. They've all seen this ghost and I didn't go into all the details, I just told them we hunt ghosts like those dudes on the sci-fi channel. You know, the ghost hunters?" Dean paused and raised his eyebrows as he went on, "Be honest, I'm gonna feel a little bad destroying the guy." Dean laughed remembering the ghost stories the girls had told him, "Some of the stuff he does…" Dean shook his head and smiled in admiration, "…classic. A girls' dorm…that's gotta be just as good as Heaven right there."

Sam was not as amused. Being on a college campus would be hard enough for him. Being surrounded by college girls…He shook his head, just being in this college _bar _brought back so many memories. They were good memories, but their presence reminded him of what he had lost. Working in a college dorm and then having to handle college girls flirting with him…he just didn't want to deal with that. He wasn't ready. But Dean clearly was eager to go after this hunt and Sam couldn't really blame him. Hell, this hunt was probably taken right out of one of Dean's fantasies. Looking back at the paper, Sam made his attempt to redirect his brother. He knew that it probably wouldn't work- dead construction workers versus a haunted girls' dorm- in Dean's eyes there would be no comparison, but still Sam had to try.

"Dean, listen, while you were over there…offering to service those girls..." Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's double entendre, "I found this in the local papers." He showed the article to his brother. Dean took the paper and read the article quickly. He shrugged, "Ok. So first we'll help out the babes and then we'll deal with this thing. That'll work out fine." Dean smiled, "Maybe the girl's gratefulness will extend throughout our stay here in…" He looked at Sam.

"Rome, Georgia..." Sam finished for him.

Dean smiled again, "Right. Rome."

Dean looked over and saw the pack of girls coming towards them; he smiled in greeting, "Hey ladies."

The girls all blushed and responded with smiles and Dean, all smiles himself, pointed to Sam, "This is my little brother Sam, the one I was telling you about."

The girls all waved, smiled, and said 'hi' and Sam nodded back.

One of the girls spoke up, "We know you said that you guys were just passing through and well, we thought since you'd have to be in the dorm at night anyway because that's when the ghost comes out, you guys are welcome to stay with us."

Dean's smile grew bigger and Sam looked down. One of the other girls worked her way under Dean's arm and smiled at him, "Tristy and I would love it if you'd stayed in our room." Another girl, presumably Tristy, nodded and rubbed herself along Dean's other side.

Taking advantage of his brother's loss of words, Sam spoke up, "That's very nice of you, but we already got a motel room and we've already paid for the whole week."

Dean stared at Sam having no idea what his brother was thinking when he made up that lie. "Sam..."

Sam's glare interrupted him and Dean got the message that Sam didn't want to stay with the girls. He understood that- it was probably related to Jessica in some way, but even if Sam didn't want to stay with the girls, _he _really, really did. Reluctantly working his way out of the girls' hold, Dean grabbed Sam's collar and pulled his brother towards the other end of the bar, "excuse us for a moment ladies."

Once they were at the other end of the bar, Dean looked at Sam pleadingly, "Sam. Come on man, you gotta give me this one." He pointed at the girls, "I mean…come on!"

Sam stayed with his head down, torn between his own self-preservation and Dean's happiness.

Seeing the distress on Sam's face, Dean tried a different approach. He put his hand on his brother's arm, "Look, I get that you don't want to stay with the girls. We can get a motel room, you can sleep there, I'll even give you the car. Your participation can be limited to ghost hunting…" Dean looked at Sam a mixture of hope and request on his face.

Sam appreciated his brother's understanding, but it wasn't just about the sleeping arrangements. He didn't want to be on a college campus again and even more so, he didn't want to be hunting around innocent college girls. The whole thing was hitting to close to home. He was supposed to still be at college himself; he just couldn't do this.

Dean was expecting an answer and Sam had three choices. He could suck it up and go with his brother's suggestion…Sam considered it, but the heartache he felt turned him away from that choice. He could tell Dean what the real problem was…that would possibly steer Dean away from this hunt, but then Dean would be sacrificing his own happiness for Sam's and since Sam honestly couldn't do the same (ala: choice number one), he didn't want that outcome either.

That left the third choice: once again try to convince Dean to forsake or at least postpone the hunt. Seeing that as the best option, Sam answered his brother, "Dean, I just think we should focus on this other hunt. I mean, whatever's going on over there has already killed four people. I think we should handle that before dealing with the mischievous ghost that's playing tricks in the girls' dorm."

Dean found himself becoming annoyed. He gave Sam an out of the sleeping arrangements; he couldn't understand why Sam was insisting that they do the other hunt. He had pleaded with Sam- not something he did often- and Sam had turned him down. For a brief moment, he was hurt by Sam's rejection of his plea. He had never rejected Sam's pleas. Never. And Sam made them considerably more frequently than he did. Even when Sam had begged him for his blessing to go to college...even then he had acquiesced to Sam's request. It killed him to do it, but he gave Sam his blessing and now Sam couldn't agree to go on a hunt in a girls' dorm with him? Pushing the hurt aside Dean argued with his brother, "We agreed to help the girls first. Plus we don't even know if that construction thing is our kind of gig."

Sam shook his head, "No, _you_ agreed to help the girls first and…come on Dean…four unexplained deaths four days in a row…"

Dean's annoyance grew into anger. This was his dream job and he already had ten girls depending on him. "What is your problem Sam? We have ten beautiful girls who need our help and you want to go to an empty construction site?"

Sam argued back, "Is the ghost trying to kill the girls? Are they in danger?"

Dean shook his head, "What the hell difference does that make? It's a ghost, it's bothering them, it's our _job _to take it down."

"The other…whatever it is…is KILLING people. That should come first. We hunt the deadly thing _before _we hunt the annoying thing."

Dean threw his arms up exasperated, "Sam…the deadly thing won't be killing anything for awhile now that there's nobody on night duty AND like I said, we already told the girls that we'd help them."

Sam glared at his brother, "and like I said, it was _you _who promised to help them…not me."

Dean stared at his brother for a moment considering their circular argument. Coming to a conclusion he nodded, "Fine Sam. You know what? I think it's time you went on your first solo hunt."

Shock pulled the plug on Sam's anger and he stepped back, "What?"

"Dad sent me out on my first solo hunt when I was 23. We can't agree on which hunt to do. There's no reason we need to do every hunt together. You do your hunt and I'll do mine. Like I said, I'll even lend you the car."

Sam felt his confusion growing at Dean's behavior. Dean wanted him hunting alone? Not that he didn't appreciate Dean's apparent trust that he could handle whatever it was, but Dean had issues _temporarily_ splitting up on hunts they did _together_. Suggesting Sam take on a hunt by himself… "You're serious?"

Dean avoided looking at his brother. He nodded, "Yeah. Just let me get what I need out of the back and I'll go home with Kristy, Tristy, Misty…whatever their names are."

Sam shook his head at Dean's seemingly irrational behavior, "Dean. You really want us to do these hunts alone?"

Dean looked at his brother, "No Sam. I don't _want_ us to do them alone, but if that's what needs to happen…I want to help the girls. You want to do your thing...so we'll split up. Besides, you're 23 dude, it's about time you did a hunt on your own. Like I said, dad sent me on my first loner when I was your age."

Sam stared at his brother, "But that was different. You like hunting."

Dean argued, "Like has nothing to do with it. You've been hunting your entire life now, Sam. You know just as much as I do." Sam shook his head. He most certainly did not know all of what Dean knew. Dean had considerably more experience than he did. Four more years life experience plus the experience he had gained when Sam was in college.

Unaware of Sam's thoughts Dean continued, "Who knows, maybe this will be good for you," then he smiled at the girls, "I know this'll be good for me." He looked back at Sam, "I'll grab the stuff I need from the car."

Signaling the pack of females, Dean left the bar- girls in tow. Five minutes later, Sam was still standing in the corner of the bar, shock on his face. He stared at the car keys that Dean had dropped in his hand. He was on his own. Dean had left for Berry College.

Sam laughed at the irony of his thoughts: _he_ was lamenting _Dean's_ departure to college, who would have thought that would ever happen? Shaking the thought from his head, Sam looked up determined. Ok- so he was hunting solo. Dean was right- he knew how to do this and if there was an emergency and he needed help- his brother was only a phone call away. Having reassured himself, Sam left money for the waitress and headed out the door of the bar. He had to go find a motel and start his research.

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Dean stared out the passenger window as the blonde chick in the red tank top drove him to the dorm. He wished that he had had more time to talk to Sam. Insisting that they split up may not have been the best idea. He just hadn't wanted to lose the opportunity to stay and _save _these girls. Dean considered calling Sam and further discussing the two hunts, but further discussion wouldn't change anything. Sam wanted to do the other hunt and he wanted to do this one.

Dean leaned back in the seat. Maybe it was a good idea for Sam to go on a solo hunt. Dean thought back to his own first solo hunt. It had been difficult, but he had learned more on that hunt than he had on almost any other hunt he could think of and what that hunt did to his self confidence…it had been a great feeling knowing that he could handle things on his own if need be. Looking back on it now, he was extremely thankful that he had had that lesson because as it stood…dad wasn't around anymore. Dean relaxed feeling more comfortable with his suggestion; it would be good for Sam to hunt alone. It was true what Sam had said - he and Dean were very different people…Sam never wanted hunting as a life like Dean had, but still, the solo hunt could teach his brother a few things.

Feeling hands kneading his shoulders, Dean looked into the back seat. The girl in the gold tank top was giving him a massage. A smile grew on his face and he sighed, he didn't care what happened…Sam was on his own. He wasn't giving this situation up for anything…

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_FYI- The story with the firefighter and the cat was a real story headlining in the Rome News-Tribune._

_Of course, the boys won't be split for the entire story. You all should know that Dean's last line will be famous last words..._


	2. The Poltergeist

_Thanks for the reviews! They're much appreciated!! And since I can't reply to you Brokenwind- thanks for the encouragement!! _

_Here's chapter 2! There's a lot of plot development in this, as well as some action and banter…but Chapter 3 is just full of excitement so if you've read along so far- trust me the next chapter is not to be missed (although I may be biased seeing as how I wrote it :-) _

_And before I get yelled at: I know that Dean does something very un-Dean like in this chapter, but let's just say that there's not a lot of blood circulating to his head right now. ;-)_

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**Chapter 2- Poltergeist**

Sam found a nearby local motel without much difficulty. He automatically got a room with two beds, not realizing what he had done until he was in the room. Staring at the other bed he laughed at himself knowing that Dean would have a field day mocking him if he ever found out about the second bed.

A shower later, Sam was lying on his bed searching the internet for more information. The internet search revealed some interesting facts. The first two victims had been in their 40s and were found the next morning in the newly made foundation of the construction site. Both victims had died of sudden heart attacks. The third victim was found two days later. The construction crew once again came in to begin the day's work and found 25 year old Hank Jarrett dead having shot himself through the eye with a nail gun. Then there was today's victim, 37-year-old Mike Willis. He had been hit by a car by the construction site at 4 am yesterday morning. He had died three hours later.

Sam considered the new information. There were four deaths and other than the first two, the deaths had little in common other than the construction site. He would need more information. Shutting down his laptop, Sam set his alarm for 7 am. Tomorrow he would visit the construction site.

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Meanwhile, at the girls' dormitory, Dean found himself seated in the common room, the main subject of a 3 am 'dorm meeting'. Apparently there were 16 girls in total that lived in the haunted dorm and the six girls who had not been at the bar, were not as thrilled about having a random 'ghost hunter' live with them for a few days. Four of the girls main issues seemed to be related to the fact that their boyfriends couldn't stay over, so why could a stranger. The other two girls insisted that Dean was a homicidal serial killer and they didn't want to be raped and murdered. While insulted at being thought of as a serial killer, Dean found himself having the most respect for these two girls who seemed to be the only ones being smart about this.

While the argument raged on, Dean found himself thinking that the dorm itself was not how Dean had pictured it. This dorm was in a 'cottage,' surrounded by forest. The front door led to the common room and kitchen and eight double rooms came directly off of the common area. A common bathroom was also attached to the common room. Dean wondered how anyone slept at night with their room right off of the common room; it had to be loud. But then he saw a sign on the wall that read: 'House rules: No TV, music, or talking after midnight'. Dean laughed…well that had to suck. Although clearly, as it was 3 am, the house rules didn't always apply. The argument continued for another hour and a half before the girls agreed that Dean could stay as well as the boyfriends, provided nobody 'heard anything'…

The decision was announced, all the girls nodded, and then all the bedroom doors opened and slammed shut on their own. Startled, all the girls ran to the middle of the room, huddled together. The girls from the bar announced, "See! This is exactly why we need him!" Dean himself looked around for further activity while silently cursing. All eight doors opened and shut at the same time. These girls didn't have a ghost; they had a poltergeist. He rubbed his head in annoyance…he had grabbed the wrong stuff from the car. He sighed and looked at the huddled mass that was staring at him. "Uh…ladies, I can handle this, but you should know, this isn't a ghost…"

The girls stared confused and one asked the obvious question, "Well then what is it?"

Dean walked to the kitchen to see what the girls had available. "It's a poltergeist."

"Like the movie?"

Dean nodded, "Kind of…Look, a ghost wouldn't be able to be everywhere at once. You beautiful ladies have an energy force here. Although I can't tell if it's being mischievous or if it's pissed."

The lights flickered and a knife hurdled itself out of a drawer and at Dean's head. Dean saw the knife, heard a girl scream 'Look out!', and then felt pain as he jumped to the side and the knife went through his shoulder.

"Son of bitch!" Dean clutched his left arm while looking at the knife in his shoulder. "Alright…I'm gonna go with pissed." Dean looked at the steak knife that was embedded in his shoulder. Having received many similar injuries, Dean knew that the dull knife had hit only muscle, but it hurt like a bitch anyway.

Seeing their savior hurt, the girls all ran over to him asking if he were ok. Dean couldn't help but laugh at such a ridiculous question. Of course he wasn't ok, there was a knife coming out of his shoulder. Looking around he saw some of the girls crying and realized that he had been more than a little arrogant when he had offered to help these girls, and on his own no less. Still, the situation was that he was the handsome knight and they were the damsels in distress depending on him. And while, yes, it would have been a better scenario if he could have banished a ghost easily and then reaped his savior rewards, this scenario still didn't all suck. Sixteen beautiful girls were depending on him to save them.

Throwing on a reassuring smile, Dean addressed the pack. "I think your poltergeist is a bit jealous and wants me out of the way as competition. And I can't really say as I blame it, I wouldn't want to go up against this face." Several girls laughed and several others rolled their eyes. "Either that or it knows I'm here to destroy it and it doesn't like that." He looked around for retaliation for that comment. Upon seeing none he continued, "Here's the thing. I thought we were dealing with a ghost, so I didn't bring any of the stuff that I would need to do a house cleansing. So, I'm gonna need someone to drive me to the hospital to get this taken care of and then drive me to…wherever my brother got a motel room so that I can get the stuff for the cleansing." The girls still looked upset, "The good news is, I can do the cleansing during the day when you ladies are at class…or whatever you do and by tomorrow night, you'll be poltergeist free." Dean looked around again before adding, "Probably."

The girls continued to look upset and one of them spoke up, "But what about tonight? How can we sleep here? It just tried to kill you."

Dean nodded, that was a good point. "Well, it aimed the knife at me, and other than opening the shower curtains while you're in the shower or pulling your pajamas off while you're asleep," Dean resisted following that mental image, "it doesn't seem to be going after you."

The girls didn't look reassured and Dean tried again, "Like I said, I think it just doesn't like _me_, _you_ should be safe. And actually, I think it likes you ladies…a lot. Uh…if you catch my drift."

One of the girls who had protested Dean's presence spoke up, "Oh that makes me feel so much better. I've got a tent. I'm sleeping outside."

Three other girls opted to join her in the tent. The girls with boyfriends opted to join them for the night and blonde girl with the black t-shirt, who may or may not have been Tristy, offered to drive Dean to the hospital and then the Impala. Dean shook his head. Sixteen girls at once…this was turning out to be a bit much- even for him.

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At 7:30 am, completely unaware of what was going on with his brother, Sam left for the construction site. He dressed in a black suit to play the part of an FBI agent. Once at the site, he was greeted by friendly construction workers who seemed to be as eager as he was to figure out what was going on at the site. Unfortunately, the workers seemed to have no more information than Sam had…with one exception. They did have the name (Al Fresing) and address of the man who had hit Mike Willis with his car the day before. They gave Sam the information, questioning him as to why the FBI didn't have that information already. Making up excuses, Sam thanked the construction workers and set out to find Al Fresing.

Ten minutes later, Sam pulled up at the entrance to a trailer park. Al Fresing's trailer was in the park's second row. The blue trailer appeared well kept and looked to have been recently re-sided. Flowerpots filled with an assortment of red and yellow flowers lined the trailer's front wall and red tulips stood in the window boxes. Taking a breath, Sam knocked on the door.

A middle aged woman in a day gown peeked her head threw the chain on the door. Sam introduced himself, "Good morning ma'am. My names David Marks, I'm with the FBI." Sam held up a badge. "I'd like to speak with Al Fresing please."

The woman closed the door, removed the chain, and opened the door for Sam to enter. As he entered, she spoke, "That accident was an accident. The man was crazy. Even the ambulance people will tell you. He just went an' jumped in front of my Al." She looked Sam in the eye, "This is disturbin' him enough as it is. You can't blame him for this." She looked pleadingly at Sam and his heart broke for her and her husband.

Sam took the woman's hand and nodded, "Your husband's not under investigation ma'am. I'm just trying to recreate Mike Willis' last moments." The woman looked relieved and nodded. Then she pointed to the couch where her husband sat staring at his beer. Sam walked over and sat in one of the kitchen chairs facing the couch. "Sir? I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm with the FBI and we're investigating Mike Willis. Sir…what can you tell me about the accident?"

The man shrugged and stared into space, "I was on my way ta work. I work at the factory two towns over, we gotta be there by 5am. I drive past that construction area every day. Used ta be just trees in that area." Mr. Fresing shook his head and took a sip of his beer. He had tears in his eyes, "I didn't see 'im till I hit 'im. I felt the car go over 'im. I thought it was a deer at first. I was gonna move it outta the way so nobody else'd hit it." Al Fresing swallowed and looked at Sam, "The man was laying on the ground, hysterical. I called 911 and I figgered he was in pain, but he was cryin' sayin' that his wife and sons had been tortured and they died and he couldn't stop it. He was talkin' crazy. I tried to calm him but he just kept on cryin'." Sam found that he had tears in his own eyes as he watched the crying Mr. Fresing tell his tale. "The police and ambulance came. They gave him somethin' to calm 'im down. He was so sure his family'd been tortured to death…I got a call he died two hours later from internal bleedin' from when I hit 'im with m' car. His family'd been at home the whole time. They were fine."

Mrs. Fresing interrupted, hugging her husband, "That's because the man was crazy. It wasn't your fault Al. None of it."

Not wanting to upset the couple any further, Sam thanked them and headed out the door pondering the new information. Something had made Mike Willis go insane and it was more than likely that the other 3 victims had shared the same fate as Mr. Willis. The only question now was: what was doing it? Sam found himself wishing for his brother- he needed Dean to bounce ideas off of. As if in answer to his wish, Sam's cell phone rang causing him to jump. It was Dean.

"Where the hell are you?"

Sam shook his head as he got into the Impala, "What?"

There was a pause as Dean tried again, "Where Sam? Where are you and more importantly where is my car?"

Sam stared at the phone in confusion, "Dean you lent me your car, we're doing our hunts solo remember."

He heard Dean breathe into the phone and then, "I swear to God Sam…I'm not in the mood. I need to get stuff out of the car. Where…are…you?"

Sam turned the car on; now he understood, "Well, right now I'm in the middle of a trailer park, but I'll be back at my motel in about 10 minutes. It's room 19 at the Super 8 on…"

Dean interrupted him, "Yeah. I know where it is. We've passed it like 30 times. I'll see you in ten…Ten minutes Sam!" And with that, Dean hung up the phone.

Sam put the phone down and began to drive. He was worried. It was abundantly clear that Dean was in a bad mood and considering that he was supposed to have spent the night in an all girls dorm, a bad mood meant that something BAD had to have happened. Chewing his lip in worry for his brother, Sam pushed down on the accelerator; he wanted to see Dean.

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Sam was back in the motel room searching through his father's journal for demons or spirits that were known for causing their victims to go insane when he heard a knock at the door. Opening the door, Sam stepped back in shock, "Dean. What the hell happened?"

Dean's left arm was in a sling and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked as though he hadn't slept at all. He pushed his way passed Sam and sat on the made bed. Like his brother, Dean missed the oddity that there were two beds in the room.

Sam crouched in front of his brother, concern plastered all over his face, "Dean. What happened? Are you okay? Why is your arm in a sling?"

Dean sighed and looked up. His shoulder hurt, but only when he moved it. At this point he was more tired and pissed than anything else. His 'savior of the girls dorm' fantasy was unraveling and to make it worse, he had lost the battle with the poltergeist in front of the girls. Seeing the unmasked worry on Sam's face, he reassured his brother, "I'm fine. The ghost, which is actually a poltergeist by the way, threw a knife at my head." He gave Sam a grin, "It missed."

Sam filled in the gap, "And hit your arm instead."

Dean corrected him, "Shoulder actually." Seeing that his brother still looked worried, Dean stood up and continued, "Relax Sam. It's a clean cut. I just got back from the hospital. I had to wait 4 hours in the ER while everybody else went in ahead of me. I'd have stitched it myself if it was in a place where I could see what I was doing."

Sam felt guilty…he should have been there for his brother, "I'm sorry Dean."

Dean looked at him startled, "Why?"

Sam moved to explain, "I should've been with you…"

Dean shook his head and interrupted him, "No Sam. You're doing your thing and I'm doing mine." Sam still looked guilty and Dean sighed, "I got this one man. It's fine. I just wasn't ready for a poltergeist, but now that I have the cleansing stuff, that bastard's goin' down. Nothing sticks a knife through my shoulder and continues to exist."

Sam looked appeased and Dean took the opportunity to change the subject, "So how's your hunt going?"

Sam shrugged and sat on his bed; he filled his brother in on what he had learned. When he had finished, he turned to Dean, "So any idea what it might be?"

Dean shook his head, "It's too broad, man. It could be a million different things. You'll just have to dig up some more research."

Sam gave a half-hearted laugh, "Yeah. Great. Thanks."

A knock on the door interrupted the brothers. Sam opened the door to find three blonde girls standing at the door drinking iced coffees. One of them addressed Sam, "Hi! Is Dean here?"

Sam stepped out of the way and looked over at his brother. Dean was standing and smiling, his right arm extended in encouragement of a hug. The girls needed no further invitation and almost immediately all three were hugging Dean and making comments like, "Oh poor baby." and, "Does it hurt a lot?" and, "What can we do to make it feel better?"

Sam rolled his eyes in disgust at the scene. Dean just smiled bigger, accepted a coffee for himself, and hugged the girls back, playing up the role of injured hero. Apparently his loss in battle hadn't hurt his reputation amongst the ladies as much as he had initially feared. He took the Impala's keys off the night stand and turned to Sam, "Well, my ride's here so I'm gonna get what I need from the car and then get back to the dorm. Good luck with your thing man." And two minutes later the keys were returned and Dean was gone.

Sam rubbed his head and sat on the bed. He was still worried about his brother. He considered leaving his hunt to help Dean, college issues aside, but Dean had assured him that he had the situation under control…plus, Dean hadn't asked for his help. And besides, someone still needed to deal with whatever was at the construction site. Ignoring his worry for Dean temporarily, Sam's thoughts returned to the hunt. He needed to do more research, but he didn't know where else to look. The only thing that was left to do was go to the construction site after the workers left and look for clues that they might have missed.

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At 8pm, Sam drove over to the construction site. He knew from his earlier visit that day that work on the site stopped at 7 pm. An hour later the sun was almost completely gone from the sky and the empty construction site sat quietly surrounded by the dense forest that surrounded the area. Taking a flash light, a black light, and two guns out of the trunk, Sam listened to the crickets begin their nightly symphony. Sam took a deep breath and steeled himself…he could handle this. He had been on over 300 hunts in his lifetime; this one was no different. Except that it _was_ different. It was the first time he was hunting alone…with no back up. Dean or his father wouldn't be there this time to save him if the hunt went bad. At least Dean had the girls. Not that they would be a lot of help in the middle of the action, but they could call 911 if needed. Sam had no one.

He looked over at the partially framed building. Offhandedly, he wondered what the building was going to be. It was too large for a house, but it was too far removed from the town center to be a store. Giving up those thoughts, Sam slammed the trunk shut and made his way to the building.

Remembering that the first two victims had died of a heart attack on the foundation level, Sam decided to start his search there.

Sam scanned the area with his flashlight as he walked throughout the foundation. There appeared to be no sign of a demon or any other evil thing anywhere. After searching the entire foundation with the flashlight, Sam retraced his steps, this time using a black light. Sure enough, Sam found what he was looking for.

In an area of the foundation that was shrouded in darkness, an inscription had been written two times. The inscription read: victito despero. Upon reading the inscription, Sam's body filled with fear. He knew what he was dealing with and there was no way he could handle it alone. Not waiting for the thing to attack, Sam immediately jumped out of the new foundation and ran full speed for the car. Jumping in, he threw the car into drive and drove off the property. Once he was at least a half-mile from the construction site, Sam pulled the car off the road and called his brother.

A girl picked up on the third ring, "Dean's phone."

Sam ignored her, "I need to talk to him. Now."

The girl huffed into the phone before responding, "He's indisposed at the moment." Sam heard giggling in the background and immediately knew what indisposed meant.

"Well interrupt him. I have to talk to him, it's an emergency."

There was a pause at the other end and then, "Seriously? You want me to interrupt him? Uh…I don't think I can do that."

Sam resisted hitting his head on the steering wheel, "You can do it. He'll be mad at me not you. Like I said, it's an emergency."

The girl was unconvinced, "_He_ may be mad at _you_, but my roommates will be mad at _me_ if I interrupt them."

Sam took a moment…roommate_s_? As in plural? Sam made a face at that mental image. Sometimes his brother was just disgusting. "Look…I NEED to talk to my brother. Now interrupt him and give him the damn phone!"

There was silence on the other end and Sam wondered if the girl had hung up; he wouldn't have blamed her. But after a few seconds he heard muffled talking and then Dean's voice came through the line, "This really isn't a good time Sam."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, "Yeah I heard. Sorry to interrupt, but I need your help. Now."

Dean sighed, "What's the problem Sammy?"

"The problem is that I just found out that I'm hunting a Feeder."

There was a pause and then Dean's confused voice came through, "Like a Fear Feeder?"

"Yeah. Except it's not a Fear Feeder. It feeds on something else. But I searched the foundation at the construction site with a black light and I got two inscriptions of victito despero, presumably where the first two victims died."

Dean's voice came back, "Despero? What's that?"

Sam shook his head, "I don't know. I only know victito pavidus, the Fear Feeders. But the first word is the same and everything else makes sense, the inscriptions, the insanity…It's definitely a Feeder, I just don't know what emotion it's causing and then feeding off of."

Dean sighed, "Alright, well, Fear Feeders are killed with bullets made with silver, iron, and vomit and I know we've got some of them in the trunk. Just go in there and when you see the first hallucination, shoot the thing."

Sam argued with him, "Dean. I can't do this alone. This is a Feeder. These things warp reality. If I'm by myself, I'm not going to know what's real and what's not...I need your help Dean."

There was another pause before Dean came back, "Look Sam. You know what the thing is, you'll be ready for a hallucination. You just have to keep reminding yourself that whatever you see isn't real."

Sam put his head in his hand, Dean wasn't going to help him? He tried again to get his distress across to his brother, "Dean…"

Dean interrupted him, "Sam, I've gotta deal with this poltergeist. I'm sorry man. I've pissed the thing off now. I can't just leave it here with the girls another night. I've got a responsibility to them."

Sam said nothing and noting the silence Dean continued, "Look, if you really don't want to do this alone, then wait for me. This poltergeist thing will be done tonight and then I'll come with you to deal with the Feeder."

Sam shook his head, this was ridiculous. He felt like a baby, begging his big brother to hold his hand through a hunt. Dean was right, it was time he did a hunt on his own. Sam answered his brother, "No. Don't worry about it. I'll handle it tonight. You go deal with the poltergeist."

Giggling was once again heard in the background before Dean spoke, "Alright man, don't worry. You'll be fine. Uh…I gotta go, dude. Good luck."

"Yeah, you too." Sam ended the call and threw his phone in the passenger's seat. Putting the car in drive, Sam drove his way back to the construction site, praying that that wouldn't be the last conversation he had with his brother.

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Dean hung up the phone, considering his brother's situation. Feeders were nasty creatures. In fact, his father had once told him that Feeders were sometimes used by demons to torture humans. A Feeder's typical mode of operation was to distort reality by creating a 'dream-like' hallucination for their victim. Dream-like in the sense that the victim wasn't able to use logic during the hallucination, so things could change during the hallucination and the victim would accept the changes without question. The purpose of the hallucinations was to evoke a specific emotion from the victim, which the Feeder would then feed off of. So long as the person was alive, and feeling the emotion, the Feeder would continue feeding; much like a leech. If the person died or the emotion stopped, the Feeder would let go of its victim and move onto the next victim. Feeders were easily killed; a shot anywhere with a specific kind of bullet would do the job. The only difficult part was seeing through the hallucination.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the one brunette resident of the dorm, "Dean? Uh, you kinda left us hangin' in there. Ya comin' back?"

Dean smiled as he appreciated the girl's body. "Sure thing, I'm real sorry about that." He indicated the phone, "Little brothers…"

The brunette smiled and led him back into her bedroom. The blonde girl on the bed looked up, "Hey." Dean resumed his place next to her as she continued talking, "While you were on the phone out there, Lindsay and I talked to some of the other girls…"

Dean nodded as he kissed her shoulder and the blonde continued, "Well, we were thinkin', what if you didn't destroy the poltergeist tonight?"

Dean ceased the kissing to look at the girl confused, "What do you mean?"

The brunette sandwiched Dean by lying down on his other side. She spoke into his ear, "We mean that Kelly and I…and a few of the other girls were hoping to take you out tonight. One of our friends lives nearby and he's got a hot tub in his backyard. Anyway, he's throwing a party and invited us and, well, we'd like you to come too."

Dean raised his eyebrows as he considered this he had wanted to destroy the poltergeist tonight; the thing had put a hole in his shoulder. However, a hot tub party with these girls seemed like an opportunity not to be missed, "A hot tub, huh?" Dean's imagination ran away with him and he smiled at the girls, "Well, I've got no problem putting this cleansing off if you don't."

The blonde beamed, "Great! I can't wait to tell the girls!"

Dean laughed, "Now you're sure none of your roommates are gonna be upset? I did promise to have this thing out of your dorm by tonight."

The brunette looked at Dean in disbelief, "Trust me honey. Nobody's gonna have a problem with you deciding to lounge with us in a hot tub. Besides, girls have been livin' with this thing for years. One more day isn't gonna kill anybody."

The blonde interrupted her, "Your body, however…now a piece of art work like that could give a girl a heart attack."

Dean looked at the girl and smiled, "You know, I was just thinking the same about you." A hot tub party…no wonder Sammy had wanted to go to college.

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_Review and let me know what you think so far!_


	3. Mistakes

_Thanks for the reviews!! I appreciate them so much- you have no idea how happy they make me!_

_Here's chapter 3 and I'm going to shamelessly plug one of my other stories here: The First Hunt. If you haven't read it, it's based off of one of the memory scenes from this chapter. This story and that one are linked and that story will give you some good insight as to where the boys are coming from in this story. So, if you feel up to it, click on my name and then go read the story (it's short- it's a two-shot). I promise, it'll make this story that much better…_

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**Chapter 3: Mistakes**

Four hours later, Sam was still sitting in the foundation of the framed building on the construction site. Other than the constant bite of mosquitoes, nothing whatsoever had occurred. Sam looked up through the framed outer wall of the building. There were no streetlights in the area- no lights at all in the area, and all of the stars were clearly visible.

As Sam studied the stars, his mind wandered back to his second date with Jess. Jess had told him that he had to plan the date completely on his own, without any help from her. He chose to take her out for an Italian dinner and then take her to the observatory. Stanford's observatory was open for a few hours every Friday night. Sam smiled as he remembered her face coming out of the observatory. She looked so beautiful. He could remember her smile exactly…the way it was higher on the left than on the right. She had been wearing a red shirt and a white skirt. He could see her face as she bit her lip and then stood on her toes and leaned in to wipe some spaghetti sauce off of the edge of his mouth. It was then that he kissed her. Their first kiss…Later Jess had needled Sam, flaunting that he could have 'gotten some' on the first date if he had 'grown some balls'.

Smiling at the memory, Sam wiped the tears from his eyes. He had truly loved her and he had never been so happy in all of his life as he had been with her. Sam looked up at the stars, "I really miss you Jess."

"Talkin' to yourself?"

Sam jumped up and looked towards the voice in time to see Dean jump down to join him in the foundation. Sam quickly wiped his eyes and nodded at his brother, "Dean, what are you doing here?"

Dean shrugged, "The girls are in bed, I figured I'd come by and see how you were doing…I heard you talking to yourself…are you hallucinating?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, he hadn't realized how nervous he had been until his brother had shown up and filled him with relief. "No hallucinations yet. I'm beginning to think the Feeder's gone." He nodded at Dean, "How'd your poltergeist thing go?"

"I'll be honest, I could've used your help man. That geist was a bitch. It wasn't easy with my arm being the way it is."

Sam felt guilty. He should have helped Dean, he knew his brother was hurt, and clearly nothing was happening on his hunt. "I'm sorry Dean, I should have been there."

Dean gave Sam a sad, but very sincere look, "I'm glad you weren't."

Sam stepped back confused, "What?"

Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were yellow- the eyes of the demon.

Sam froze. This couldn't be happening. How could the demon have gotten to Dean?

Dean walked towards his brother, an evil grin on his face. "Come on Sam. It didn't seem even a little odd to you that all those girls were literally throwing themselves at your brother?"

Sam stared at the yellow-eyed Dean, fear hitting him like shock waves. Dean continued, "Your brother was getting to be as much of a pain in the ass as your father was…" The demon smiled at Sam, "I set myself a little trap for him. I thought, now what would be irresistible to Dean Winchester?" Demon Dean snapped his fingers, "How about an entire dormitory filled with beautiful women begging for his help? And I gotta say, your brother fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

Sam was panicked. He didn't know what to do. How could the demon have gotten Dean? And more importantly, how could he save Dean?

The demon seemed to pick up on Sam's thoughts, "Oh, you can't save him." Dean shook his head, "No. The only thing you could have done was prevent this, but…it's a little too late for that now."

The demon stalked towards Sam and Sam moved back until his back was pressed up against the foundation. The demon's face was inches away from his own, "You left him Sam. You saw that he was hurt and you left him anyway. You could've stopped this, but now…"

Sam shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. Demon Dean smiled and took a step back, "I'm a fair guy. I'll tell you what. I'll give you a chance. One chance to save your brother."

Sam jumped at it, "What?"

Dean pulled a gun out of the back of his pants and handed it to Sam, "Look familiar?"

Sam took the gun and studied it; it was the colt. The demon continued, "There's one bullet left in there Sammy. It seems like we've been here before, but I'm curious what decision you'll make this time around. That's the LAST bullet."

Sam continued to stare at the gun. Last bullet or not, there was no way he would shoot to kill his brother. This bullet would be aimed the same way as its predecessor. Sam aimed the gun and the demon smiled. Holding up a hand, he indicated for Sam to wait, "Before you shoot, let's hear what Dean has to say…"

The yellow disappeared from Dean's eyes and Sam found himself once again staring at his brother. Dean spoke, "Sammy?"

Sam shut his eyes at his brother's voice. Dean sounded frightened…and vulnerable. It wasn't something Sam was used to. He opened his eyes again and found Dean staring at him, confidence had returned to his voice, "You know what to do Sam."

Sam nodded, tears falling freely, "We'll find another way to kill it."

Dean nodded and his eyes once again became yellow. Without hesitation, Sam shot at Dean's leg. As the shot was going off, Sam's eyes widened in fear. The area where he had aimed, the area where he was staring, was no longer Dean's leg. Instead, Dean was now kneeling and where his leg once stood, now was his heart.

Sam watched in slow motion as his brother's body jerked back from the impact the bullet made in his chest. Sam waited for the electrical currents that he expected the bullet to produce, but they didn't come. Instead, yellow-eyed Dean stood up…and laughed.

"Guess I must have given you the wrong colt. Sorry about that."

Sam looked down at the colt in his hands and noted with horror that it was the fake colt, the one that his father had tried to trade with Meg. He stared at the gun in terror and confusion. He had looked at the gun before, how could he have missed the fact that it was the fake? Hands and body trembling, Sam looked up at the demon inhabiting his brother.

The demon made a face of mock pity, "Oh. I'm sorry Sammy. But I couldn't have you killing me." The demon looked down at the blood seeping out of the bullet hole in his chest, "You know, you really are a good shot; daddy taught you well. It went straight through your brother's heart."

Sam dropped the gun and cursed at the demon, "You evil bastard! Leave him alone!"

Yellow-eyed Dean smiled, "Leave him alone?" He seemed to consider it. Then the demon shrugged, "Okay, but only because you asked so nicely." Using Dean's lips, he smiled at Sam one last time, "I'll see you around Sam…" Then Dean's head tipped back and the demon's black mist floated out of his mouth. Immediately Dean fell to his knees.

Sam ran forward and caught his brother before the rest of his body could hit the floor. Holding his brother in his arms, Sam looked down into his brother's unseeing hazel eyes. "Dean?"

Dean gave no response. Sam put his fingers to Dean's neck and waited…nothing. Dean was dead…killed by Sam's shot.

Filled with despair, Sam gently placed his brother's body down on the floor and pushed his eyelids closed. He sat himself next to Dean's body and played with sleeve of his brother's jacket. The moonlight shown through the framed wall, casting lined shadows on Dean's paling body. A pool of blood was spreading out from underneath the jacket, slowly leaking out of the exit wound that Sam had created in his brother's back.

Sam touched his brother's face, silently crying, staring at the blue lips. He thought back to his brother's face the last time he saw it, when the demon had let Dean speak. Dean had trusted him then, 'you know what to do Sam'. Sam's eyes wondered to the bullet hole in his brother's chest. How could he have done this? Despair filled his body to the point of crushing him.

Sam thought back to the conversation he had had with his brother on the phone earlier in the night. Had that even been his brother? Had he been talking to the demon? Had it been Dean that he spoke with in his motel room or had that been the demon?

Smoothing out his brother's jacket, Sam spoke through his tears, "Dean…I'm so sorry." He touched the side of his brother's face, "Please…I'm so sorry." With that, Sam picked up one of his brother's lifeless hands and stared. Tears continued to fall silently as Sam sat- lost in a pool of his brother's blood.

How long he sat there filled with loneliness, guilt, and grief he didn't know. Memories ran through his head, much like they did earlier that night, only this time the memories weren't about Jess. This time they were all Dean. Sam remembered sitting on the hard foam filled sofa of one of their apartments, the itchy material of the couch making him tuck all exposed body parts into his oversized pajamas. Dean came and sat next to him, book in hand and a smile on his face. He wrapped one arm around Sam and pulled him closer before laying the giant book out on their laps. Dean's childhood voice came back to him in a haunted echo, 'Don't worry Sammy, daddy'll be back soon. Hey tell you what? While we wait for him, I'll read you your favorite book and I'll bet that by the time I'm finished, he'll be back."

Sam wiped at his free flowing nose, Dean had won that bet, their dad had walked through the door just as Dean read the last line of the book. A second memory popped into Sam's head. He was holding a gun, a gun that was too heavy for him. He sat leaning against the wheel of the Impala, staring at the gun. A barely adolescent Dean was crouched in front of him. Once again Dean's voice, although this time mid-change, rang in his ears, 'You'll be fine Sammy. There's nothing for you to worry about. I've got your back.' Sam still stared at the large gun, 'but what if I miss the shot? What if I screw up?' He felt Dean smooth out his hair and squeeze his shoulder, 'If that happens, which it won't, I've got you covered. If you miss, I'll shoot it. I promise. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you.' Adolescent Dean flashed a trademark grin, 'Not while I'm around'.

Sam's eyes were once again brought to his brother's face. More tears fell as he realized that he would never see that grin again. His brother would never be around…not anymore. Dean Winchester had been killed, shot by his brother's hand. A brother that he had raised, protected, and practically sacrificed his life for. Sam grew disgusted with himself. How much of his brother had he taken for granted? Had he ever told Dean how much he appreciated him? Sam scooted back from his brother's body until he was seated against the foundation wall. The blood that Sam had been sitting in as it pooled from his brother's body was now smeared across the floor from when he moved to the wall.

Sam sat there for another indeterminable amount of time, until he saw the pink rays of the morning sun reflected in the mist that had grown through the night. The air was cool and damp, working its way through Sam's dulled senses. Realizing that the construction crew would be back soon, Sam questioned what to do what Dean's body. Where would he get it cremated? He knew that Dean wouldn't want to be buried- and especially dug up, salted, burned, and reburied again.

He would probably have to do the cremation himself in the form of a funeral pyre, but could he really burn his brother's body by himself? The sounds of car doors slamming made Sam realize that he was out of time. He would have to make a run for it and then find Dean's body again later. If he got caught now, he'd be arrested for murder and Dean would never get a proper cremation.

Mind made up, Sam took one last look at his brother's dead body and jumped out of the foundation level. The construction foreman and the two workers that had arrived to the site early pointed and shouted to Sam. Sam ignored them and ran for the Impala, which he had parked in the trees just outside the site. In his haste, he paid little attention to anything other than his destination. So he didn't see the rather large hole in the ground that his foot got caught in, sending him tumbling forward. The blade of a nearby bulldozer cut into his head and Sam was thrown into darkness.

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_Likin' it? Hatin' it? Kind of neutral? Review and lemme know what you think...please?_


	4. Lost

_Those of you who are reviewing- thank you so much! I know the beginning of this story wasn't the most exciting (there was a lot of set-up), but I think it starts to pick up here. Anyway, I worry about whether or not people will like this story, so the reviews mean A LOT to me. Thank you._

_Ok- chapter 4! This one is all Sam's point of view, but then so was the last one now that I think about it…oh well. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 4: Lost  
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Beep…beep…beep…Sam arose to consciousness very gradually, led by the soft beeping that interrupted the constant sound of a nearby air conditioner. He felt dull, a thick pain in his head preventing any deep thought. Slowly, Sam opened his eyes and was greeted with white. A white ceiling stood above him with a large coffee colored stain marring the homogeneous pattern. He turned his head to the right, in an effort to determine the source of the beeping. His head was hot and Sam realized that there was a bandage around it. The bandage clung to him uncomfortably, making his head itch and pointing out his greasy, sweat filled hair.

To the right of his head, Sam saw a metal pole that presumably led up to the thing that was beeping. Following the pole with his eyes, Sam saw the heart monitor, and instantly became aware of all eight square pads that had been stuck to his body. He attempted to feel the pads, which brought him to yet two more realizations; one, his arms were stuck under the sheets, and two, his left leg was weighed down. Using his right foot, Sam felt around his left leg and determined it to be in a splint. And then the pain hit…his ankle was throbbing.

Sam racked his brain attempting to cut off attention to the pain in order to focus his limited thinking ability on how he had ended up in what was clearly a hospital room. The first question was where was he? He considered that, but memories of hundreds of different towns and hunts flitted through his brain and the answer seemed unreachable. The next question was where was Dean? Dad wouldn't be there, his brain was that up to date, but Dean should…Sam gasped as unsequenced memories from the past two days assaulted him. Desperately, he tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts...He definitely had been hunting solo. Other than that, what was real, what was a dream, what had actually happened, he couldn't tell.

Nausea broke into Sam's thoughts and his brief moment of semi-lucidity was overtaken by the pain in his ankle. The beeping grew more frequent and Sam's vision darkened. He heard rushed footsteps, followed by nearby voices, none of which he could understand. The voices grew louder and Sam could tell that people were arguing. A sharp pain hit his ankle and gradually, a numbness spread through the ankle allowing Sam to resume his normal breathing pattern. The blackened edges of his vision slowly receded and his ability to think resumed. A tugging thought of 'Dean is dead' repeated constantly, not allowing Sam to ignore it. Upon further examination of the thought, the memories of last night came flooding back, in sequence, although what had happened after his hand left Dean's pulseless neck was blank.

Feeling his shoulder shaken, Sam looked up into the face of a young, African American nurse. He saw her lips moving, but no sound seemed to register. Even the hum of the air conditioner and the interrupting beeps were gone. Sam's own voice was the only thing he could hear, 'Dean is dead'. The nurse looked up, speaking to someone else in the room and then left. Sam looked around and realized he was once again alone. The hum and beeps came back.

Was Dean dead? Unwilling to accept an affirmative answer, Sam began backtracking through his memories. There was something that was off, a voice screaming at him in the background, muffled by the 'Dean is dead'. Sam concentrated and finally the voice broke through. Ironically it was Dean's voice, telling him, 'keep reminding yourself that whatever you see isn't real'. Hope made an attempt to fill his soul, but Sam held it in check for fear of being destroyed if the hope didn't pan out. He needed to know _now_ if Dean was actually dead or if it had been a hallucination.

Sam's eyes scanned the room before coming to rest on the table next to his bed. There was the phone. He pulled his shaking hand out of the sheets and ignored the beeping, which had once again sped up, and the blackness creeping back into his vision. He had to know…now. Fumbling, Sam managed to knock the receiver off the phone and put it against his ear. His vision was almost completely dark and his hand felt detached as it shook and dialed his brother's number. The beeping was drowned out by the sound of Sam's own pulse, but a new, muted, sound of ringing entered his senses. The footsteps came back and a hand suddenly encircled the phone in an attempt to take it away. Sam immediately grabbed the phone, using all his strength to keep it next to his face. There had been several rings by now, but Sam was unaware of how many. Arguing was heard in the background and he wondered if the yelling was aimed at him or someone else. Then, "Hello?"

Sam's black vision turned bright white, his brain and body overloaded with feeling. It had been Dean's voice, but there wasn't enough awareness in Sam to be sure that he heard it and hadn't hallucinated it. "Dean?"

Sound cut through his senses again, "Sam?"

It was Dean again, this time it was definite. Dean's voice continued, mixed in with the pulse, the beeping, the humming, the arguing, and the sound of the bed creaking as it shook from the nurse's attempt to pry the phone from Sam's hand. Now knowing what he needed to, Sam allowed his body to shut off and darkness once again overtook him.

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Beep…beep…beep…once again a soft beeping gradually drew Sam to consciousness. He kept his eyes closed as he sought for a second time to retrieve his memories and make sense of his situation. He was in a hospital and he had woken up before, that he remembered. Sam tried for more; Dean had been dead…no…he had been questioning that…and once again, the previous night's memories flooded him. However, this time, those memories were mixed with the blurry memories of the phone call he made from the hospital. Had that really happened?

Slowly, Sam opened his eyes hoping that seeing the hospital room would ground him enough to determine whether the phone call had been real. Once more, Sam came face to face with the stained ceiling. He was able to think more clearly this time around as compared to the previous time. If the ceiling had been real, then it was possible that the phone call had been too.

"Sammy?"

The beeps increased and Sam felt the breath stick in his chest. It was Dean's voice. Only Dean said, 'Sammy' like that. But had it been real, or another hallucination? Fearfully, Sam turned his head to the left, immediately taking in his brother's face. Dean looked unhappy, but more specific emotions were indeterminable. Yet again, Sam's inner voice began speaking, informing Sam of his own fears, 'he's a ghost'. The voice was coupled with a muted memory coming in the form of a reminder that Dean's body had to be dealt with; he needed to be cremated.

"Sam?" Sam noticed that his brother's hand had been on his shoulder the entire time. Afraid to believe the happier explanation for Dean's presence, Sam sought out confirmation of the abysmal one.

"Are you a ghost?" Even to his own ears, he sounded like a child. His fear was unrestrained and the voice came out a high-pitched whisper. He watched his brother's face carefully, wondering if Dean was angry that Sam had shot him, not knowing why else Dean's ghost would be haunting him.

In response to the question, Sam watched his brother tense, taking in a breath. Dean leaned toward him, his eyes reflecting pain. Dean hadn't answered and Sam felt the panic rising up. Had his brother's ghost come back to enact it's deadly revenge? If he had been more aware, he would have found the panic ridiculous. What was the worst Dean could do? If Dean took his life, it wouldn't be nearly as painful as _living_ the rest of his life having killed his brother. However, Sam's brain was running on survival mode and on instinct, he attempted to draw back into the bed, away from the ghost.

Dean's hand began rubbing Sam's arm, "Sam." Sam automatically relaxed at the touch. Dean still hadn't answered the question, but apparently, Dean was unable to say anything other than Sam's name.

Sam asked the question again, purposely pushing himself to sound louder, "Dean? Are you a ghost?"

Dean's face continued expressing pain although his mouth smiled. Still not speaking, Dean shook his head and then looked down. Sam processed this information and allowed the hope that he had been keeping at bay grow. Once again he heard the beeping speed up and blackness began to creep in. Heavily, he lifted his hand and touched the top of his brother's head, which was the part of Dean that was closest to him at the time. He pushed on his brother's skull, feeling it as one would if they were reading the bumps on a person's head. Dean's head was hard and more importantly real. The beeps became even faster as Sam accepted the fact that his brother was alive. Which of his other memories had been real, which hallucinations, was unclear, but the only thing that mattered was that Dean lived.

Sam's hand dropped limply from Dean's head as the darkness filled the remains of his vision. Footsteps were heard again as well as the nurses' voices from before. They were unclear, although loud, and Sam briefly wondered why he could never understand them. Dean's hand, which had ceased the rubbing during Sam's exploration of his head, resumed its motion. Suddenly, a new sensation of Dean's other hand stroking the top of his chest (just under his neck) greeted him as well. The touch was incredibly calming and tears filled Sam's eyes as he remembered the loss of his brother. The memory flooded him, sitting in Dean's blood, remembering how much he loved his brother…and Dean was alive. Sam found himself crying, once again too unaware to censor his feelings.

The nurses' voices increased in volume again and as suddenly as it started, the hand on his chest stopped. Dean's own voice grew loud and although Sam couldn't make out the words, he knew the tone. Dean was in protection mode. One of the nurses must have been attempting to do something that Dean disagreed with. Sam opened his eyes, finally realizing that they had been closed.

Dean stood above him, leaned over the bed, yelling at the nurses on the other side. The hand on his arm kept rubbing and Sam found himself captivated by his brother's ability to yell at a nurse and keep his arm moving at a slow relaxing pace. Dean's face exuded rage, and his touch conveyed tenderness. It was a bizarre combination and Sam was positive that only Dean Winchester could pull it off.

The beeping resumed a slow pace and the nurses visibly backed down. Clearly Dean had won the argument. Obviously annoyed by their loss, the nurses left and Sam, whose composure had been regained by the distraction, opted for a change of subject.

"They argue with _each other_ too. Every time I wake up, they're yelling at each other…I think."

Dean looked down at Sam, hand still rubbing, the pained expression back on his face. He resumed his seat, but didn't respond to his brother.

Panic infiltrated Sam's thoughts again as his confused brain thought that perhaps Dean had found out that Sam had killed him and was angry about that. If that were the case, he had no idea how to fix that.

He watched Dean look up at the heart monitor and then make eye contact with him, "Sam? What's wrong?"

Another surge of panic passed through Sam's body, this time created by the absurdity of Dean's question. So many things were wrong.

Sam's voice seemed to find the true answer to that question without involving Sam's conscious brain, "You're not talking to me."

Sam was startled by his own answer, it was true, but he hadn't realized that he had known that that was what was wrong. Dean's face showed surprise as well, and then the sadness was back. The hand stopped rubbing and became still, "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't…I…I'm not not talking to you. Man..." Dean shook his head, "It's…I just." Sam watched his brother take in deep breaths and tears were visible. Something was bothering Dean, but he was holding back a discussion about it.

Fatigue surrounded him, and Sam found himself being lulled into sleep, still drawing comfort from his brother's hand. Before his eyes closed, he looked over at Dean, "I'm tired."

Dean nodded and Sam continued, "Dean? Be here?"

The beeping sped up again and Sam found himself sounding like a child for a second time. His eyes sank shut, but before they closed, he could have sworn he saw a tear fall down his brother's face. The hand on his arm squeezed. Sam heard Dean's voice, "I swear," and then he fell into sleep.

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_No cliffy this time, but hopefully you'll review anyway?_


	5. And Found

_Thank you all SO MUCH for all the reviews! You made me so happy today!!! And I'm so glad that you all liked the chapter even though it was Sam pov only…I know a few of you said that you wanted the Dean pov, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for that. We'll get there, but this chapter is another Sam only pov (but it'll be the last for a while at least)._

_Another short chapter, but some things had to be explained and Sam needed some more time to recover before we could move along... _

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**Chapter 5: Found**

When Sam awoke again, the room was dark. The beeping was still there, and Sam immediately turned to his left to see if Dean was also. Given the darkness of the room, he had expected Dean to be asleep in the chair near the bed, but he wasn't. Instead he was wide-awake and staring at Sam. Upon making eye contact, Dean smiled, "Hey."

Sam smiled back, "Hey…" He cleared his throat, "What time is it?"

His brother struggled to read his watch in the dark before answering, "Two in the morning."

Sam started. He hadn't expected that. Dean's eyes widened and flicked to the heart monitor, "You need to stay calm Sam." He looked back at Sam, "I know there's…a lot. But," Dean looked around and then moved in to whisper at his brother, "the Feeder fed off you…drained your energy. Your blood pressure's…" Dean gave an emotionless laugh, "well, let's just say that according to the docs…you should be singing a ballad with Jerry Garcia right now."

Sam looked at his brother confused and Dean attempted to explain, "I don't know how it works man, we never really looked into the medical effects of the supernatural. All I know is that Feeders feed off the emotion and drain the person until…" Dean cleared his throat, not finishing the sentence. He continued, "The doctors said that your blood pressure is the same as if you lost three quarters of your blood. They couldn't explain it 'cause you didn't have any holes in you…I don't know. All I know dude, is that you have to keep your heart rate down…" Dean sat back and played with his lips, "Just try to stay calm, Sammy."

Try to stay calm. Sam laughed silently. That was the most ridiculous thing he had heard…and that was coming from a man that spent the previous night facing off with an invisible leech posing as a demon, posing as his brother.

In an attempt to avoid disturbing thoughts, Sam questioned his brother, "How are you still here? When are visiting hours?"

Dean cringed and cleared his throat. Sam could tell that he wasn't going to like what Dean was about to say. Clearly Dean was thinking the same thing because he answered Sam while keeping his eyes on the heart monitor. "Yeah…um. So here's the thing, and keep in mind your heart rate?" The beeps picked up their pace- suspense was never a good way to keep a person calm.

Dean took a breath, "The construction workers identified you as David Marks, FBI agent." Sam's heart rate remained stable and Dean pressed on, "When I got here, the police were here. They checked out the FBI thing and knew it was phony. I had to do a lot of damage control. I had to get the feds to drop the impersonation charges…" Dean's eyes traveled back to Sam's face, "I told them you were cognitively impaired and schizophrenic, that I was your legal guardian, and that due to your disorder, you really believed that you were an FBI agent."

Sam's heart rate dramatically picked up. Dean had to be kidding. Maybe he was hallucinating again. Dean's eyes flicked back to the monitor and he stood up, placing a hand on his brother, "Sam, calm down."

Sam looked at Dean incredulously, calm down? Was he kidding? "Dude, you told them I was retarded and insane and you want me to calm down?" Sam's vision began to darken, the ability to think became harder.

Dean leaned down over Sam's face, "You NEED to calm down, man. Don't think about it. We'll discuss how pissed you are at me later. Take deep breaths."

Dean's comments drained Sam's anger. A memory floated into his mind- himself sitting next to Dean's dead body wondering if he had ever told his brother how much he appreciated him. Sam didn't like the lie Dean had created and under other circumstances, he would have believed that Dean had created this situation just to piss him off. But Sam's condition was too serious for that. He knew that Dean had manifested the lie to avoid attention and trouble- not to create fodder to mock him with.

Dean's eyes were back on the heart monitor as the beeps slowed down. Satisfied that Sam was calming, Dean resumed his seat. Sam looked over at his brother, "So they're letting you stay? Is there anything else I should know?"

"They're letting me stay. It's the same rules that apply to parents and hospitalized children. Your name by the way is Sam Connelly."

Sam nodded, he knew that insurance card; it was one of the few with his true first name on it. "Aren't they going to check out the guardianship?"

Dean shook his head, "I handed them forged papers and doctor's reports."

Sam stared confused, "Where'd the hell you get those?"

"Dad had them. He had a bunch of different ones…all blank, just the names needed to be filled in. Took me an hour to find the car by the way."

The beeps sped up, "The police don't have it?"

Eyes back on the monitor, Dean shook his head. "You did a good job of hiding it in the woods. The police think you snuck out of our motel room after I was asleep and walked to the site."

Sam laughed, "Well then guardian, I'd have to say, you sure didn't do a very good job of watching me."

Dean flinched and even in the darkness of the room became visibly pale. Sam was startled by the reaction. He had made a joke, kidding around about the fact that he was incapacitated and Dean was his guardian. He had expected Dean to take the opportunity and run with it. People believing Sam to be impaired and insane was prime real estate for Dean to have fun at Sam's expense. But Dean wasn't laughing, wasn't smiling, wasn't even looking at him. "Dean?"

The unhappy expression had returned to his brother's face and Dean turned to him, "Listen, I'm going to go, I'll be back by the morning."

"Where are you going?"

Dean shrugged on his jacket, "I have to take care of something."

Sam's memories and thoughts jumbled again as he tried to determine what Dean 'had to take care of'. Memories of the girls being bait to lure his brother into the demon's hand warred with memories of the girls needing Dean to destroy a poltergeist. Sam knew that the demon possession had been a hallucination, but couldn't forget what the hallucination had told him. He was used to having visions- foreshadowings of the future. It was hard for him to just ignore his memories and accept them as the fear-based illusions that they were. "Dean stay here."

Dean paused at the door, "Go back to sleep dude, I'll be back by the time you wake up."

Dean turned to leave and Sam called out again, "Dean wait a second. Tell me where you're going, man."

Dean turned back again, annoyed, "I told you Sam I have something to take care of."

The motions repeated themselves again with Dean turning to leave and Sam calling out, "That's not an answer." Dean left the room. Sam reflected…there were moments when Dean was remarkably like their father. The beeping sped up as Sam grew angry at his brother's evasiveness. Dean was up to something and obviously he thought that Sam wouldn't approve. Sam's brain may not have been working at a fully functional level, but he was considerably more lucid than he had been before. If Dean was going to do something that Sam wouldn't approve of, he had to be stopped.

Determined, Sam called out to his brother again, "Dean!" And pushed himself up. Immediately the room spun, his vision darkened, his pulse beat in his ears, and he fell back against the bed. He fell back at an angle that landed his head and shoulder off the bed. Desperately, he hung on to consciousness knowing that if he passed out now, he would never be able to stop his brother.

Remaining conscious took all of his strength and energy, leaving him unable to get his head back onto the bed. The pulse grew louder in his ears as the blood drained into his head. His vision consisted of green and red spots and his throat felt as though it were swelling. He could feel the pulse in his neck and Sam accepted that he wouldn't be winning the battle to stay conscious.

Just as he gave up, Sam felt hands under his head and shoulder lifting him up and onto the bed. The red and green spots remained covering his vision, but the beating pulse in his head and neck seemed to dissipate. He could hear muffled voices, one so deep that it could only mean that his brother was back in the room. It wasn't the way he had planned on stopping his brother's departure, but nevertheless it worked. The voices ceased and gradually the vision began to clear.

Dean's face came into view, staring him down. Anger eked out of Dean's pores, directed at Sam, and Sam's pulse once again sped up in fear. Dean seemed to have noticed the reaction and was able to correctly identify its cause. Sam watched mesmerized as Dean carefully removed all evidence of emotion from his face and body.

Sam relaxed, at the same time wondering how it was possible for Dean to do that. Satisfied with Sam's slowing pulse, Dean shrugged off the jacket and sat back in his chair. No emotion showed through his mask.

Sam turned to him, "Where were you going?"

Dean didn't look at him, "I'm staying now, go back to sleep."

He was incredibly tired, but he wasn't going to be distracted, "Tell me where you were going."

Dean's body tensed as some of his anger made its way to the surface. Within seconds, it was pushed back down again. He spoke without emotion, "I was going to destroy the Feeder."

Sam's pulse quickened driven by anger, "What?!"

Eyes back on the monitor, an emotionless Dean gave him a directive, "Sam calm yourself."

Sam ignored him and spoke through clenched teeth, "Where the hell do you get off trying to go after the Feeder?" His chest tightened. Dean said nothing, but continued to stare at the monitor.

Sam spoke again, pointing with his shaking finger, "It's _my_ hunt Dean. Mine. You don't get to finish it. It's mine."

Concern cracked briefly through Dean's façade as he tried to settle his brother, "Okay. Fine Sam, its yours. I won't do anything." Dean's eyes left the monitor and met his brother. "Just calm down."

Sam was taken aback by the worry that the eyes held. A few seconds ago, Dean had been emotionless, now his eyes were filled with feeling. Answering his brother's plea, Sam relaxed. He was still upset, but he was able to put the feelings off until he could properly deal with them. However, one last anxiety weighed on his mind. He turned to his brother, "Dean?"

Dean sat back in the chair and looked at Sam, "Yeah?"

"Can I trust you?"

Dean looked confused by the question. "Dude, what the hell are you talking about?"

Sam tried to explain, "I know you were just saying that to appease me. I need to trust you Dean." He looked his brother in the eyes, "If I wake up and find out that you went after the Feeder…_nothing_ you can say or do will calm me down."

Dean stared at him for a moment and then cautiously nodded, "It's your hunt Sam. I'll do what you want me to do."

"I want you to promise me you'll let me finish the Feeder."

The stare continued and Dean made no move to promise anything. Fatigue was taking over and Sam knew sleep would be inevitable soon. He tried again, "It's my first solo hunt Dean. Come on…don't make me fail it, man."

That comment visibly hit home and Dean looked down. Sam repeated his request, "Promise me."

Dean nodded, but kept his head down.

"Say it."

Dean looked up at his brother, sincerity in his eyes, "I promise."

Satisfied, Sam relaxed and fell asleep.

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_Still enjoying? I hope so... Let me know..._


	6. Regrets

_Once again, HUGE thank you to all of you who reviewed! You totally made my day! So thanks for the happiness!!!! For those of you that I can't reply to, LynyrdSkynyrdRoadie, Julie, v, and Brokenwind: Thanks so much for reviewing and I'm glad that all of you like it so far! As for good ideas…I just do what the muses tell me. This particular story is the work of three different muses as I kept being abandoned throughout…_

_So FINALLY! We get out of Sam's head and into Dean's…whew. I know a lot of you are waiting for this so I'll get out of your way now before I get trampled. Here ya go…_

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**Chapter 6: Regrets**

Dean woke up to the pain in his neck he had gained sleeping in a cheap plastic chair for the night. Squinting at the sunlight that seemed to aim itself directly at his face, he attempted to rub out the knot in his shoulder. He debated whether or not he should close the blinds. The sunlight was blinding him, but Sam might like the light. He hadn't been very lucid the last time the sun was up. To Sam, the past day and a half was probably just one long night. Mind made up about the blinds, Dean turned to look at his brother.

Sam looked horrible. He was so pale that Dean could actually see the blue veins behind the skin on Sam's face. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and a white bandage covered his forehead. Sam's lips were cracked, pieces of dry skin hanging on them, and inconsistent stubble faintly covered his face. Dean honestly couldn't remember ever seeing his brother look so bad- although there probably had been times, but they had been conveniently forgotten.

Looking up at the heart monitor, he was immensely relieved to see that Sam's blood pressure had gone up. The blood pressure seemed to be steadily increasing, although not as quickly as Dean would have liked. Still, it was increasing at a faster rate than if Sam really had lost three fourths of his blood. Apparently recovering from an emotion feeding was quicker than recovering from blood loss.

Dean looked at his watch; it was 11 am. He shuddered. It was at this time yesterday that he had gotten the phone call from Sam. He shook his head at himself. He had known something was wrong yesterday morning when he had called Sam three times and received no answer. Still, at the time, he had made up excuses rather than accepting that something was wrong and finding Sam. It wasn't until Sam called _him_ and the nurse informed him that Sam was in the hospital that he knew something had gone wrong with Sam's hunt. He should have known before that. He should have known when it happened. He should have been there.

Dean stood up, stretching and walked into the private bathroom. Turning on the water, he splashed the cold liquid over his face. He could feel the light beard on his skin and briefly wondered if he should shave, or if Sam would want to.

Dean gripped onto the bathroom sink. The cold porcelain pushed against his palms as Dean tried to focus all of his frustration into it. He had screwed up. Atrociously. He reviewed the events of the past 2 days. Sam had called him, told him that he needed help. Dean had refused him and then went to a hot tub party. The arms attached to the porcelain began shaking. There would be no way to fix this. He had broken a promise. He had promised his mother, his father, Sam, and even himself that he would ALWAYS protect Sam- at all costs, no matter what. There would be no way to undo what he had done.

Sam was still alive, because of luck, but things were never going to be the same between them again. Sam could never trust Dean again. They both knew it and even Sam had said it. He had already commented on Dean's 'not watching' him well and he had already questioned his brother's trust. Dean glared at the sink wishing that he could find a way back in time to go back to two nights ago, beat the shit out of himself, and then go help Sam. It was a wish that would never be fulfilled and Dean had no idea what to do from here.

Sam made it clear that he didn't want Dean going after the Feeder and Dean could understand it. If he were in Sam's position, he would also feel territorial about the hunt. But now there was nothing for Dean to do…no way to help his brother. The opportunity for helping him had sailed by and Dean watched it drift passed from a cushy seat in a hot tub. God…what the hell had he been thinking! Dean felt his chest tighten as he fully came to terms with just how horribly he had screwed up.

The introspection ceased to a halt when the wound in Dean's shoulder grew painful enough to make Dean aware of his attack on the sink. His shoulder was sore, but otherwise fine. It reminded him that the poltergeist still needed to be dealt with, but he wasn't about to leave Sam and, in all honesty, he didn't want to face the girls again. Seeing them would remind him of what he had chosen over his brother. Sixteen incredibly hot girls fawning over him were not worth as much as one Sam. Dean shuddered and walked back into the room- there was a thought he was glad he hadn't said out loud.

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A day later, Dean signed his brother out of the hospital. The doctors were against it, still not understanding what was wrong with Sam, but Dean knew what was wrong, and his brother didn't need more tests. Sam's blood pressure was now stable enough for him to move about…if he could. Sam's broken ankle seemed to be causing more problems than anything else. It was still splinted, but wouldn't be able to be casted for another week, not until the swelling went down, and that meant Sam had to move slowly and carefully, which really wasn't a problem because his blood pressure had demanded the same thing.

They hadn't spoken much, at least not about anything important anyway. Sam's blood pressure had been too low for him to be able to discuss anything that would possibly upset him…that was the excuse. Shame was the real reason. Dean's shame of failing to protect and be there for his brother and Sam's shame of failing his first solo hunt and 'killing' his brother.

The ride back to the motel was brief and Dean spent the time arguing whether Guns-N-Roses had brought back metal (Sam's opinion that they did) and whether Guns-N-Roses actually played metal (Dean's opinion that they did not). The discussion was heated…and loud, but the silence between them rang louder. The unspoken discussion of what had happened that night hung in the air like a wall being dropped in between them. As time went on, the wall fell lower, and gradually they saw less and less of each other, until the wall was all they could see.

Dean helped his brother into the motel room minding his broken ankle. He helped Sam get settled on the bed before laying down himself. It felt good to lie in a bed after spending two nights in that blue plastic chair. Dean looked around the room as a thought occurred to him, "You got a room with two beds."

Sam opened one eye and looked over at his brother, "Nothing gets by you."

Dean said nothing; plenty had gotten by him recently. Sam sighed and spoke again, "Whatever happened with the poltergeist? Did it go ok?"

Dean froze. He couldn't tell Sam that he had blown him off for a hot tub party, but he couldn't lie and say he got the poltergeist either. He couldn't say anything. He was too filled with shame and as much as he deserved whatever anger Sam would have for him, he didn't know if he could handle seeing Sam look at him the way their father had after the striga incident. He didn't deserve Sammy's trust or respect, but he couldn't deal with losing it either.

"Dean?" Sam had apparently noticed the lack of an answer.

"Yeah. I still have to finish it." Dean nodded, his dad would've been proud. That answer was truthful, yet still cryptic.

Sam looked surprised, "You didn't finish it? Why? I thought you just had to do a cleansing. It should have taken a hour at the most." Sam slowly sat up and looked his brother over, "Dean, did something else happen? Did it attack you again?"

Dean cringed, and now Sam was worried about him. He should have known…Sam never accepted cryptic from their father either. "It didn't attack me Sam, I just didn't get a chance to finish it..." Dean made a show of smelling the air. "Man, I reek." He looked at Sam, "I'm gonna go take a shower." Then he got up and fled to the sanctuary of the bathroom.

Sam stared at the closed door in confusion. He knew his brother didn't do discussions well, but he was honestly surprised to find out that Dean hadn't finished his hunt. It didn't make any sense. The cleansing really should have only taken an hour. Why wouldn't Dean have finished it?

Sam laid back on the bed searching for an explanation…and one did enter his mind. It was plausible, but Sam had a hard time believing it. Was it possible that Dean had put off destroying the poltergeist because he had been…'distracted'? Sam considered it, trying to determine what would win if Dean had a choice between hunting and sex, but the choice hadn't been just hunting and sex. The choice had been hunting, sex, or Sam. Whatever the winner had been, clearly Sam had been the loser. A myriad of feelings ran through him at that thought. Whether Dean had blown him off for hunting or sex, either way Dean had blown him off.

A dull pain settled in Sam's stomach. He felt hurt…and a little betrayed. He couldn't believe that Dean had blown him off. And after he specifically asked for his help.

Sam considered this more and relaxed. If Dean had blown Sam off for sex…he had no right to be upset. It was no different than when Dean had to go on _his_ solo hunts because Sam had left for college. Dean was entitled to his college experience too. He understood that. He couldn't be angry with his brother. He just never thought that Dean would say 'no' to him if he asked for help.

A memory popped into Sam's head:

_He and Dean in a car, a map on his lap, flashlight in his hand, Dean turning to him, "We can make it by morning."_

"_Dean, um…"_

"_You're not going."_

"_The interview's in 10 hours, I gotta be there."_

"_Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."_

"_Sam? You know we made a hell of a team back there."_

_"Yeah." _

So apparently he and Dean had a lot in common. Dean had asked for his help on the Blackwater case and if it weren't for Jess' death, he would have blown him off for a law school interview. Sam shook his head. He couldn't believe that only a little over a year ago he was thinking about law school…but back to the situation at hand. Sam's awareness of his impending hypocrisy helped alleviate whatever hurt and betrayal he had felt due to his brother's actions. Dean was human and Sam had never really considered that. To Sam, Dean was his infallible, all-knowing, indestructible big brother. But in reality, Dean was a human being. So if there was one night where Dean chose to live his own life rather than sacrifice his happiness to save Sam, then Sam could get over it. Now the only question was, should he bring all this up with Dean?

Dean wouldn't have this conversation willingly, but it was very probably a conversation that needed to be had, before the wall settled and the conversation could never be breached. As an answer to Sam's dilemma, Dean exited the bathroom, showered and fully dressed.

Preparing himself for the frustration of trying to make his brother talk, Sam sat up and cleared his throat, "Uh, hey Dean?"

Dean looked over, "Yeah?"

Sam had another question for himself, how does one start this sort of conversation? "Um, you know, it's okay that you didn't help me out." Sam could feel his face turning red with anxiety as his brother stared at him. "You know, the other night. I mean, I don't know if…I just…" Sam knew that his pulse was going too fast, but the conversation had been started, there was no going back now. "I don't know if you even…I just wanted you to know, that it's okay."

Sam held his breath trying to search Dean's face out for an emotion, but once again, his brother kept them all hidden. It was no wonder his brother was such an excellent poker player. Finally Dean spoke, "Dude. I didn't understand anything you just said. I'm going out to the store. You want anything?"

Sam exhaled in frustration. Dean was going to make this extremely difficult. "I'm just saying…I don't know if you feel bad about not helping me out the other night, but if you do, you shouldn't. You don't have to always give up what you really want to do to save my ass."

Sam saw Dean visibly pale and knew he had been right about Dean's guilt. However, very quickly, the pale turned to anger, "Don't tell me how to feel Sam."

Sam tried to process that in his thickening brain, "What does that mean?"

"It means this conversation is over. What do you want from the store?"

Sam shook his head; it was unfair for Dean to make him work this hard given the lack of circulation to his brain, "How _do _you feel?"

Dean stepped back, "What are you freakin' Dr. Phil?"

Sam tried again, "I just don't want you to feel guilty."

"How I feel is none of your damn business, Sam."

His vision suddenly grew dark and Sam briefly wondered how he looked on the outside. He fought against passing out. If he passed out now, Dean would never have a conversation with him again. "It _is_ my business, man. Dean, you're my brother. We work together…most of the time. If something's bothering you, it affects me."

Dean scoffed, "Right, 'cause you're always so open about what's bothering _you_."

Sam shook his head, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dean walked in front of his brother, "The visions…how long did it take you to share that with me? And how bout those nightmares of Jessica…you were real easy to talk to about that…How about why you don't date anymore? Or hell! What about why you were adamant about not helping the girls? Huh? Right Sam…you're just an open book about your feelings!"

Sam winced, apparently he hadn't saved himself from hypocrisy. He spoke to his brother in a quiet voice, "I was only trying to help you. I just wanted you to know that I'm not mad."

Dean stared him down before speaking with an equally low voice, although his was filled with anger, "That's because you don't know what really happened…"

"What are you…" Sam's vision went completely black as he lost the ability to sit up. Sam fell to the side and off the bed.

"Shit!" Dean began running forward as soon as he saw Sam's eyes roll back into his head. Thankfully, he managed to catch Sam before he fully fell off the bed.

Pushing down the pain of guilt that took up permanent residence in his chest, Dean gently maneuvered his brother back onto the bed. He laid Sam down and put two fingers to his neck to monitor his pulse. He cursed himself for not having noticed how pale Sam had become. He shouldn't even have entered into that conversation. He looked at Sam and noticed Sam's eyes were open and staring at him. "Sam?"

Dean held his breath as his brother stared blankly. After a minute of receiving no response, Dean tried again, "Sam."

This time, Sam blinked and looked over at him before answering slowly, "Sorry…should've seen that one coming."

Dean nodded, "You and me both, man…Do me a favor and just relax for awhile? We can continue this therapy session another time, when you're not auditioning for Grey's Anatomy."

Sam shook his head, Dean was right; he needed to rest. But the conversation wasn't over and if it died now, there would be no way to resurrect it. "What really happened?"

Dean didn't hide his emotion this time; anger was written all over his face. "What are you freakin' kidding me? Enough Sam! You just fainted! The conversation's over."

Dean grabbed his jacket and went to leave. Sam sat up and immediately fell back down again; apparently his circulation had not resumed a healthy pace yet. Ignoring the dizziness, Sam looked over to his brother who had paused, presumably to make sure that Sam didn't fall off the bed…again. "I want to know Dean. What happened?"

Dean raised his eyebrows consumed by anger at his brother's stubborn neglect of his own health, "Fine. You want to know what happened?"

Sam nodded and Dean continued, "I went to a hot tub party."

Sam gave no reaction and Dean threw on his jacket, "There. You happy now? I ditched you when you needed me so that I could spend time in a hot tub…and I did it on purpose."

Sam winced. That had hurt. But he knew that Dean hadn't done it on purpose, or at least he wouldn't have if he had known what the outcome would have been. Sam spoke to his brother calmly, "Dean. It's ok man…It's no different than when I went off to college and you went on hunts by yourself. You didn't do anything wrong because you wanted to do something other than hunt. We _both_ chose to do our own thing and not help each other. You're no more guilty than I am."

Dean stared at Sam with a mixture of rage and disbelief on his face. "Didn't do anything…" Dean shook his head, "That's crap Sam. I screwed up. And it's not the same thing man. When I came to you in college…I told you that I wanted your help…that I didn't want to do this alone…you came with me. And even if you hadn't, it's not the same."

From his prone position, Sam shook his head. "It's exactly the same. You think just because you're older you have this responsibility to protect me…it works both ways man. Birth order has nothing to do with it. We're brothers Dean, we protect _each other_. I screwed up too. I knew your shoulder was hurt and I let you go after the poltergeist alone..."

Dean interrupted his brother, "I didn't go after the geist, dude, and I definitely didn't get hurt…You did…"

Sam returned the interruption, "That means you were luckier than me, not safer…we both messed up on this one. You shouldn't feel guilty just because I got more hurt."

Silence stretched as the brothers stared each other down. Finally Dean spoke, "Do you remember my prom?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up; he hadn't expected that. Cautiously he answered, "I remember that it was cancelled." Upon receiving no reaction from Dean, Sam continued, "I remember you renting a tux and talking about your date. Her name was Michelle, she had red hair…I remember you really liked her."

Dean nodded and sat in a chair by the window. He looked at Sam, "Do you remember what you were doing the night of my prom?"

Sam's expression grew confused; he had no idea where this was going. "I think that was the night when we went after the rawhead. The one where you and I got to play bait."

Dean nodded and Sam continued his memory of the hunt, "As I remember, there was a second rawhead that dad didn't know about and he was dealing with that one when the first came up on us. Then the first one grabbed me, tried to pull me under the water, you shot it, we burned the remains, and then we went home."

Dean nodded. Sam was still confused, "Dean, what does…"

Dean interrupted the question, "It wasn't cancelled."

"What?"

Dean sighed, "My prom…it wasn't cancelled. I went to Michelle's house an hour before the prom and told her I couldn't go."

Sam looked shocked, "Why, man? I thought you liked her?"

Dean agreed, staring at the wall as he spoke. "I did, Sam. But dad told me about the hunt…"

Sam broke in, angry, "Dad made you miss the prom?!"

Dean looked back to Sam and shook his head, "No. He told me to go…said you guys 'had this one'." Sam looked even more confused and Dean continued, "But he told me his plan. That he was going to leave you sitting out there as bait. I just had this feeling, man. And you…you were scared. It was all over your face." Dean looked away from his brother, "I just…I couldn't go, dude. I promised you, a long time ago, I'd keep you safe…that we'd always stay together on a hunt."

Sam took in a breath. He felt like he'd been punched. Dean had sacrificed his prom for him. "Dean…" What was he even supposed to say?

Dean looked back over at Sam, "I did the right thing that night, man. I saved your life back then…The other night…" Dean paused before speaking again, "I broke that promise Sam."

Sam shook his head, filled with regret that his brother had sacrificed so much for him. "You can't always be there Dean. This was my hunt, and it was my responsibility to keep _myself _safe. I got hurt because I let my guard down, not because you weren't there. Like you said, I'm 23 years old, man. I should be able to do a hunt on my own by now."

Dean shook his head to interrupt but Sam cut him off, "Honestly? I'm kind of glad you blew me off to hang out in a hot tub."

Dean was taken aback and Sam explained, "I hate that you're always making sacrifices. You should be able to have fun too every once and awhile."

Dean smirked, "I have fun Sam. Believe me, I have plenty of fun. You're thinking I'm you." Sam rolled his eyes and Dean went on, "Seriously dude, I like hunting. The things you think of as sacrifices…I like them."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Your prom? Come on Dean, you can't tell me you didn't want to go."

Dean stood up and made his way back to the door. "Look, I wanted to go, I'm not gonna lie. But…" Dean laughed at the memory, "When I told her that I couldn't go? She practically kicked my ass. Went on about how I had ruined her life because she had to go to her senior prom, alone…the most important night of her life. While she was screaming, all I could think was, 'Thank God my life isn't so freakin' boring that getting stood up for the senior prom is the end of the world.'"

Dean stared at his brother, "I wanted to go, but it wasn't that big a deal. The hunt was more important that night and I _chose _to go on the hunt. It was my choice, man, and I got no regrets about it. The other night…_that_ I regret." And with that, Dean opened the door and left the room.

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_Were you happy with Dean's head? Did you enjoy the conversation that the boys FINALLY had?? Review and lemme know!!_


	7. Bye Bye Mr Geist

_Millions of thanks go out to the wonderful people who reviewed! Your support and encouragement is what keeps me posting and I appreciate the time you're taking to drop me a line and let me know what you think. Many, many thanks…_

_Ok- so I felt that we haven't been in Dean's head nearly enough, so here's a chapter that's all Dean pov…__So hopefully you'll be able to get what Sam's thinking about throughout this chapter, even though it won't be discussed..._

_FYI- Three V road is fictional, although based on another road. Um, the actual road is known for the ghosts that I describe…_

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**Chapter 7: Bye Bye Mr. Geist**

Dean closed his phone and glared at it. Twenty-three messages had accumulated on his voicemail over the past three days. All of them were, of course, from the girls. The first ten had been well wishes- hoping that Sam was ok and offering to 'be there' for Dean if he needed 'someone to talk to'. The thirteen after that were from last night through this afternoon. Those messages featured frantic women who were insisting that Dean hurry back and deal with the poltergeist who apparently had begun to act up. And of course, several of those messages blamed Dean for riling the damn thing up and then not destroying it as promised…one more promise that had been broken when he decided to go to the hot tub party.

Dean sat on the bench outside the motel in a quandary. He really did have a responsibility to the girls to finish what he started. Not to mention, the poltergeist had to go, whether Dean had riled it up or not. And as Sam had mentioned, the cleansing should only take an hour, but the problem was, Dean wasn't sure if he should leave Sam.

Other than needing help to get around, Sam really didn't need Dean for anything and he wasn't in any current danger. Leaving Sam for an hour and a half shouldn't be a problem, but he felt guilty doing it. Still, it was better to get the poltergeist out of the way now, so that he could focus all of his attention later on helping Sam with the Feeder. Mind made up, Dean went to the room to talk to Sam.

He had thought that Sam might be asleep, but he wasn't. Instead he sat leaned up against the headboard, staring sadly at the TV. He glanced up at Dean as he walked into the room and then turned back to the television. Dean sat in the chair with a sigh, "Dude, you look like someone just ran over your cat."

Sam's eyes stayed on the TV, "We never had a cat."

Dean rolled his eyes, "It's an expression Sam."

Sam shrugged, still watching the program.

"What are you watching?"

Sam seemed to snap out of his stare and turned to Dean, "What?"

Dean repeated the question, "I asked what you were watching."

"Oh." Sam turned back to the TV seemingly to see what he _had_ been watching. "Uh…I don't know. Looks like a made for TV movie."

Dean gave Sam a look somewhere between confused and concerned. Apparently Sam's mood had not been due to the program as Sam hadn't even seemed to notice that the TV was on. Dean cut to the chase, "What's wrong with you?"

Sam looked back over confused, "Nothing. Why?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Why? You're staring at a TV show you're not watching and you look like you just lost your best friend."

Sam shook his head as he took a deep breath, "Sorry man. I was just thinking about the other night. My hallucination. It still feels real. It's not like a dream or nightmare where you know it didn't happen. It feels like a memory…I have keep reminding myself that it never really happened, that y…" Sam trailed off and looked away.

Dean gave all of his attention to his brother, "What happened?"

Sam gave him a sad look, "I can't Dean. Not…not yet. I'm sorry. I know after I, I made you talk before…but I just can't right now. I don't want to relive it."

Dean nodded. He was used to Sam clamming up by now- Dean was forced to talk, but Sam wasn't. Sam didn't seem to mind _that _double standard, but God forbid Dean should feel guilty that he didn't watch out for Sam- that wasn't okay. Batting down his annoyance, Dean addressed the issue of the poltergeist, "So I just checked my voicemail."

Sam shut off the TV, "And?"

"And the geist is acting up." Dean looked at his brother, as though asking for permission, "I'm gonna have to go deal with it."

"Tonight?"

Dean nodded. Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, "You want me to come?"

Dean looked at his brother as though he were insane, although he honestly wasn't surprised by the question. "Yeah dude, because someone passing out in the middle of the ritual is exactly what was missing from the last cleansing."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "What time are you going?"

Dean shrugged, "It'd probably be better if I go now. Get it over with." Dean waited for his brother to answer his implied request for permission to go.

Sam stared off into space again and Dean wondered if Sam's pulse had increased and if that was affecting his brother's ability to think. After a minute, Sam turned back to him, a serious and distressed look on his face, "Dean? Be careful around those girls? I mean…if they seem…just be careful."

Dean grew confused, was his brother referring to sex? He was always careful.

Sam shook his head looking at Dean's confused face, "Nevermind. Just watch yourself."

Dean gave up trying to understand his brother, "Yeah. Ok. Whatever dude. I'll see you in a few hours." Dean left to leave, but then turned back again, "Hey." Sam looked up, still holding onto his forlorn expression, "This'll be out of the way after tonight. Tomorrow we can plan the Feeder."

Sam began his staring again and Dean questioned for the second time if he should leave his brother alone. After a few moments, Sam looked back and spoke quietly, "I want to do it alone."

"What?"

Sam bit his lip and looked at Dean hesitantly, "The hunt, Dean…the Feeder…I want to finish it…myself."

Dean shook his head, "No."

Sam shut his eyes, took a breath, and tried again, "Dean…I need to know that I can do it on my own."

Dean could understand where Sam was coming from, really, but there was no way he was going to let Sam go up against the Feeder alone again- especially given his current condition. Dean stared at his brother, determined, "No Sam."

Sam looked rejected and Dean tried to explain himself, "You wanna prove yourself; I get that. But you're injured right now. Wait until you're better. Then you can take out a ghost or something on your own."

Sam resumed staring, a light shake of the head his response to his brother. Dean sighed and left the room.

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Dean arrived at the dorm to find all the girls standing outside, huddled together. When he stepped out of his car, he was greeted by mixed reactions. Five of the girls ran up to him, showering him with hugs and kisses and thanking God that he was there. Five other girls folded their arms and glared at him, clearly annoyed. The other six seemed to ignore his presence, instead staring fearfully at the house.

Dean walked towards the mass of girls and one of them spoke, "Well, it's really pissed now…"

Another girl cut her off and spoke to Dean, "We didn't know if you would be coming back, so we tried to do the cleansing ourselves, but we really didn't know what we were supposed to do with the stuff."

Dean sighed, this couldn't be good, "What did you do?"

Several girls answered at once, but Dean got it. They had essentially just mixed everything together and lined the edge of the house with it, which of course, was not what was supposed to be done.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tell me you didn't use all of the ingredients…"

Silence confirmed his suspicions. He tried to clarify, "You used ALL of it? Nothing is left?"

Once again, he was met with silence. Finally, one of the girls answered, "Well, you just left us. We didn't think you were coming back. And you pissed the thing off before you left, you should have seen what it was doing last night."

Again, all the girls began talking at once, reciting to Dean all of the mischievous things the poltergeist had done the night before. Squinting his eyes to alleviate his growing frustration headache, Dean help up a hand, silencing the girls. This was bad. There had been enough ingredients for at least five cleansings. He tried to think. He had more of most of the ingredients in the car, but that had been the last of the crossroad dirt, and the cleansing couldn't be done without it.

He looked up at the silenced girls, "I have more of the stuff in the car, but I need to get crossroad dirt. You used the last of what I had." The girls continued staring silently and Dean was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with _him_ that everyone around him seemed to enjoy giving him blank stares.

The girl on his left spoke for the group, "So where do you get that?"

Dean rubbed his head, "Uh, well, at an intersection of two dirt roads."

The brunette nodded vigorously, "Three V Road is a dirt road, and there's another dirt road that crosses it by the old church."

A girl in a blue shirt interrupted, "Yeah, but that road's been closed to visitors since all those people decided to come to see the crying ghost in the cemetery."

Dean fought the instinct to find out more about the crying cemetery ghost- at this point he had a poltergeist and a Feeder to deal with- he didn't even want to know about the ghost. "It doesn't matter if the road is blocked. It won't be a problem."

A girl in a yellow bikini top…Dean stared at the top, or rather what was coming out of it. How had he not noticed the girl in the bikini top? She disagreed, "You can't get a car down there. They've got this giant cement barricade at the beginning of the road."

The girl to his right piped in, "Oo! I know! He can borrow my bike!"

The girls all agreed seeming to like the idea. Dean shook his head- he wasn't going there- he never learned how to ride a bike. "Look, I'll just walk it. How far is it from the barricade to the crossroad?"

Eight girls answered at once, "Seven miles."

Dean looked at them strangely and they giggled, "It's known as 7 mile road. The other road is right at the end."

Dean nodded. Seven miles…if he ran it, he could probably do the first 7 miles in about 40 minutes, but getting back would be slower. Round trip would most likely be close to two hours. Then it would be another hour to do the cleansing. Realizing that the quick and easy cleansing would now be neither quick nor easy, Dean pulled out his phone to call Sam.

Sam answered on the first ring, "Hey."

"Hey. Listen, there've been some complications…I gotta get more crossroad road dirt. This is gonna take me like three hours."

There was silence on the other end and Dean could picture his brother staring into space. Finally, Sam's voice came through, "Dean. Are you ok? What complications?" Sam sounded worried.

"It's nothing man. The girls just decided to do the cleansing themselves. They wasted all the stuff. I got more of the other ingredients, but I need the dirt. There's a dirt crossroad around here that the girls know, but it's blocked off and it'll take me some time to get there."

More silence…then, "Dean. You're sure you're ok? Is the blocked road safe?"

Dean pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it confused- safe from what? What was wrong with his brother? "Dude. I'm fine. Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?"

He heard Sam sigh before answering, "Sorry man…I'm having a hard time shaking the other night."

Dean was about to reply, but Sam continued, "A few more hours is no problem. Do what you need to do. Don't worry 'bout me."

Dean nodded, "Okay. Then I'll see you in like three/ four hours."

"Yeah. See you then."

Dean hung up the phone and addressed the ladies, "So where's this road?"

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Two and a half hours later, Dean found his way back to the dorm, crossroad dirt in hand. It was now nighttime, and Dean was fairly sure that every mosquito in the state of Georgia had been on Three V Road just to feast on him.

The crossroad had been interesting. No only had he heard the crying coming from the cemetery, but at another point on the road, he had heard someone strumming a guitar and singing. The sound was echoing, and Dean knew that it hadn't been made by a living person. He hadn't seen any of the ghosts, but then he hadn't really taken the time to look. He was anxious to kill this poltergeist and get back to Sam.

Back at the dorm, Dean gathered his ingredients and made the packets that would be needed for the four corners of the dorm. Several of the girls 'kept him company' as he worked; the other girls had all gone out for the night.

The packets finished, Dean took a breath, grabbed his axe and entered the now empty dormitory. He had instructed his supportive fans to wait in his car and not come out no matter what- not until he said it was okay. They didn't seem to argue.

Dean broke into the walls, inserting packets into the West, East, and North areas of the dorm. He kept his guard up, but there didn't seem to be any need- the poltergeist made no move to defend itself, at least not until Dean went to insert the last packet. This particular packet had to be inserted in the Southern wall, which happened to be in the girls' bathroom.

As Dean removed one of the wall tiles, several of the toilets began to explode, showering him with water. He spit the water out of his mouth, concentrating on his job, thankful that this was a _girls _bathroom and girls flushed. Dean looked to his right…or maybe they didn't.

Ignoring the foulness occurring around him, Dean tore a hole in the now tile-free area of the wall. A large crash resounded above his head and pieces of wall tile showered him, followed by the metal shelving slamming into his skull.

Dean worked his way out of the shelving, ignoring the throbbing of his head, and cursing the poltergeist. Desperately, he tried to re-uncover the hole.

After a few moments of fighting with the shelving and dodging pieces of porcelain, the hole was once again visible. Plastic bottles of shower gel and shampoo pelted Dean as he picked up the last packet and jammed it into the hole.

A bright white light shot out of the house and all of the objects that had been floating in the air, mid-hurl, fell to the floor. Dean turned around just as he saw the metal nail file that had been two inches from his back fall to the ground. Dean stared at it, "Well that would've sucked."

Water still spewed from the toilets, collecting on the floor. Dean was soaked, with bits of porcelain tile stuck on his clothes and hair. He made his way to the bathroom door, slipping and sliding on the wet tile floor. He had just pulled open the door when he feet flew out from under him, sending him to the floor with a painful whack.

Dean laid there, sprawled out on the floor, staring calmly at the ceiling as his lungs relaxed and allowed air to re-enter his body. As he laid on the floor, he found himself amused at the turn of events that had landed him on the floor. If Sam were here right now, he'd be laughing his ass off…and Dean would have never lived this down.

Picking himself off the floor, Dean exited the bathroom, and then the dorm. He rang the excess water out of his shirt as he made his way to his car. Upon seeing him, the four remaining girls, jumped out of the Impala and ran over to him, bubbling with excitement. "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

"Dean! Did you see that bright light?"

"Is the thing gone?"

"Why are you all wet?"

"Did it hurt you?"

Dean held up his hand and tilted his head to the side in an attempt to knock some of the water from his ears. Looking back at the girls, he attempted to answer their questions. "I'm fine. Your bathroom's not. Uh…you're gonna want to call somebody about that…"

The girls made a face of disgust. The girl in the blue shirt spoke up, "Is the thing gone now?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah. You girls are safe."

All at once the girls surrounded Dean, hugging him in thanks. A part of Dean responded and he was reminded of how much he would love to 'reap his rewards'. But, there were more important matters at hand- namely Sam.

Reluctantly, Dean pried himself away from the girls. They clearly looked confused and disappointed. Apparently, they had been thinking along certain lines as well. Dean apologized, "I'm sorry ladies, but I gotta go."

The girls pouted, questioning him, "Why?"

"What's the rush?"

"Come on Dean. We still need to pay you for your services."

Dean took a breath to calm himself- this was why he had gone to the hot tub party. But what he had told Sam was true…he regretted that decision. He had fun at the time, he would have had fun at the prom, and he would have lots of fun if he stayed tonight, but those weren't where his priorities lied.

He looked at the girls without any regret. "Sorry- I can't stay. Maybe another time."

The girls looked disappointed, but nodded. They watched silently as Dean got in his car and drove back to the motel.

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Dean entered the motel room, still picking pieces of porcelain out of his hair. He was anxious to take a shower, ice the back of his head, and then wipe down the driver's seat of the Impala. God knows what had rubbed off of him and onto the seat.

As he shut the door, Dean looked over to Sam's bed- it was empty. Knowing that his brother couldn't have gone far on his ankle, Dean checked the bathroom, "Sam?"

It was also empty.

Dean stood in the door of the bathroom trying not to panic. Sam had a broken ankle, a gash on his head, and moderately dangerous low blood pressure. Where could he have gone? Dean considered that someone might have taken his brother, but who- or what?

Pushing down a full panic, Dean took out his cell phone and speed-dialed Sam's number. After a few seconds, he heard the ring…in the room. Dean looked over and saw Sam's cell on the nightstand next to his bed.

Unable to hold back the panic any further, Dean looked around the room frantically, hoping that his brother really was there and he had just missed it. Not finding Sam ANYWHERE in the room, Dean did the only thing he could think of… "Sam!"

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_Dun dun dun...  
_

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	8. Bad Decisions

_Once again- many many thanks to the people who reviewed. You truly do bring joy to my life. Thanks you again. And for Brokenwind and Julie- thanks for the reviews and see, you didn't have to wait too long!_

_And for all those reading- I hope you are enjoying the story and thanks for sticking with me..._

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**Chapter 8: Bad Decisions  
**

Sam sat in the construction site, back against the foundation wall, fighting not to pass out. Anxiety caused his pulse to race, bringing blackness into his vision. Desperately, he tried to take deep breaths, attempting to calm himself.

What he had done was stupid, and not at all well thought out. The lack of planning and foresight involved with his decision was phenomenal. Sam partially blamed his incredibly bad decision on the lack of oxygen getting to his brain due to poor circulation. He looked around- this was probably THE stupidest thing he had ever done.

He had been desperate to finish the hunt the way he had started it- alone. It was embarrassing and a huge blow to his self-confidence to know that he couldn't complete a hunt on his own. But given his current state, Sam knew that there was no way Dean would let him finish this hunt solo. So, when Dean had called saying that he would be four hours late, Sam took the opportunity, possibly the only opportunity that he would have, to finish the Feeder.

Thus was the first of a series of bad decisions that led him to his current seat in the foundation. He had a taxi drop him off at the site; therefore, there was evidence that he was here. He had come without a gun. He only had a limited amount of time before he needed to be back before Dean found out about this. And as the final straw, he was so nervous and angry with his own stupidity, that he was about to pass out. The only saving grace would be that if he passed out, the Feeder wouldn't be able to feed off of him.

Sam considered the Feeder…Victito Despero. What emotion did it feed off of? Sam thought back to his hallucination trying to determine what emotion he had been feeling the most. Desperation? Despero sounded that it could be that, and Sam had felt desperate when the demon was in his brother, but desperation hadn't been the predominant feeling of the night. Sam pondered more and then it hit him- Despair. THAT had been what the Feeder was feeding off of. THAT had been what he was filled with the other night.

A Despair Feeder… "Well that sucks."

Now that he had the Feeder figured out, he turned back to his situation, and his watch. It had been three and a half hours since Dean's phone call, which meant that Dean would be returning to the motel any minute now. Sam knew that if Dean returned and found Sam inexplicably gone, it would send his brother into a panic. There was no reason to do that to Dean. Dreading the aftermath, Sam decided to call his brother to inform him of where he was…Dean was going to kill him- and probably the Feeder as well. Sam wanted neither of those things to happen, but he didn't want to hurt Dean more, so Sam searched his pocket for his phone.

Not finding it in his jacket, Sam searched his pants…again he found nothing. Frozen in fear, he tried to think of where he had put the phone, but his thick brain didn't seem to want to help. Sam rubbed his hands over his face as he realized that he hadn't seen his cell since Dean had called him and therefore, he had probably left the cell back at the motel room…along with his gun. The night just kept getting worse.

Sam stopped berating himself momentarily to think about his gun. The last time he had seen the gun, he had been in this foundation. Dean hadn't mentioned the gun, nor had the police…was it possible that the gun was still here somewhere? With that thought, Sam stood up slowly and began searching the foundation area for his gun.

He walked on his broken ankle as he looked, dreading what the ankle would look like tomorrow- if there was a tomorrow. He currently felt no pain there as he had given himself a shot of a long-lasting local anesthetic before he had left. The doctors had sent Sam home with the local rather than pain medication because due to his blood pressure, they hadn't wanted him sedated.

Not finding the gun in the foundation area, Sam hobbled his way out of the foundation and began to check along the route where he had ran. Sure enough, after 10 seconds of walking, Sam found his gun lying in the grass. He picked the gun up and checked the rounds- it was still fully loaded. At least _some_ luck was with him.

Before reveling in the security of the gun, Sam considered that the weapon might be a hallucination. There was one way to test for that. Feeders and their hallucinations were non-violent…physically speaking. With that thought in mind, Sam hobbled back down into the foundation, put his left hand on the ground and slammed the butt of the gun onto his hand.

"Ahh! Son of a…"

Shaking out his hand, Sam accepted that the gun was real and not a hallucination.

Gun now at the ready, Sam leaned back against the wall of the foundation. Now that he had the gun, his nerves had calmed a little and the blackness had receded from his vision. He was ready now. As soon as the first hallucination came, he would put a bullet through it. If all went as planned, the hallucination would remain, the Feeder would become visible, Sam would shoot it again, and then the Feeder would explode into little fiery pieces.

Sam stretched his left leg out as he waited for the Feeder to attack. His ankle was beginning to throb, which meant either the local had worn off, the gun search had done more damage- or both. Sam shrugged, there was nothing he could do about that now. There was nothing he could do about Dean now either. Now the only thing he could do was kill the Feeder.

It wasn't long before Sam heard something move in the foundation. Pushing himself to his feet, Sam turned in the direction of the noise gun drawn. The area of the foundation that the sound had come from was dark and he strained to see into it.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Dean appeared. This time Sam wasted no time talking to the image. Immediately he fired and the Dean imitation went down.

Frantically, Sam searched the area for the Feeder. He had shot the hallucination, so the Feeder's form should have appeared. On the floor, the hallucination laid gasping in pain and clutching his shoulder.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam's eyes were brought to the fake Dean who was still lying on the floor, trying to examine the wound in his left shoulder. The fake Dean then looked to the ceiling in pain, "Shit!"

Sam turned his eyes away from the illusion, once again looking for the Feeder. But it was nowhere to be found. Sam decided to try again.

Carefully he walked up to the pain-filled mirage, aiming at Dean's head. The fake Dean looked up at him, "Damn it Sam! It's me!"

Sam shook his head, determined not to let the thing into his mind. He spoke to it through clenched teeth, "Not this time. You're not my brother."

Suddenly, the fake Dean looked down and aimed a hard kick at Sam's broken ankle. Pain shot up Sam's leg and he crumpled to the floor, dropping the gun.

Sam laid on his side, curled up, clutching his ankle in pain. The hallucination had just kicked him…Sam paused, all pain forgotten at the horrifying thought. The hallucination had been physically violent, which meant…Sam turned to the figure that was struggling to sit up, "Dean?"

Dean gave him an unamused look. Blood covered Dean's shoulder and Dean grimaced as he kept his arm pinned tightly to his chest. Despair filled Sam as he realized what he had done. Tears filled his eyes and a dull ache settled in his chest. He had shot his brother…for real this time. Breathing became difficult and Sam found himself gasping for air.

"Does it surprise you that you shot him?"

Sam looked around frantically for the voice. It had been Jess' voice, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"It's not like you haven't shot him before."

She wasn't talking about the hallucination. She was talking about the incident in the asylum, but how did Jess know about that?

"It was only a matter of time before he died anyway. It might as well have been at your hand."

Sam sat up, whipping his head around in all directions, looking for the source of the voice.

"Your mother, your father, me…we all died because of you. Without you, your mother, father, and brother would have been a happy family. Just like they were in all of those pictures, the ones taken before you were born. And without you, I would still be alive too. What did I do to deserve to be killed? I had nothing to do with the demon. I was just a girl who went to college and got involved with the wrong guy."

Emotional pain filled Sam's body and he gasped again, falling back onto the ground. His vision once again became dark, the sound of his pulse echoing in his head as he struggled for each breath. He turned his head to the side and saw his brother, lying dead where he had shot him in the chest. Dean laid there lifelessly, yet Sam could hear his voice as though it was right next to him.

"Sam! Damn it Sammy! Look at me!"

Sam answered the corpse quietly, "I am looking at you."

Suddenly, Sam felt two hands in either side of his face as his head was roughly turned away from Dean's corpse and towards…Dean's face?

"Sam! Look at me." Dean sounded distraught and the blood from his hands was now smeared on Sam's face. Desperately Sam tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Dean helped him out, "It's a hallucination."

Sam shook his head, eyes filled with tears and despair, "No. I thought it was, but I was wrong, Dean. I shot you."

Dean grumbled, sighed, and then punched Sam in the face. Startled and dazed, Sam shook his head trying to clear it. Dean pulled him into a sitting position and pushed a gun into his hand. "Sam! Get it together man. _I'm _real. That…" he pointed in the general direction at which Sam had been staring, "is a hallucination. Now shoot it."

Trusting his brother and accepting his own inability to reason, Sam shot the dead Dean.

Both brothers covered their ears as a loud screeching sound was heard. The screeching sound seemed to originate from Sam and both brothers watched as a large, clear leech began to appear, attached to Sam's head, neck, and shoulder. It's round mouth was stuck onto Sam beginning above Sam's right ear and down to just above Sam's right elbow. The body of the leech was about three feet long, cone shaped and segmented. It flopped around in the air as its mouth fed off its host's emotions.

Without waiting to see more, Dean grabbed the gun out of his brother's hand and shot the leech. Pieces of leech flew from the bullet hole and burned up on the floor. However, almost as quickly as the hole appeared, it seemed to close again. The bullet had not been effective in killing the leech, but it was enough to cause the leech to screech again and release Sam.

The rotund creature fell onto the ground and quickly wormed its way back into the shadows. Not knowing what to make of the ineffectiveness of the gun, Dean sat and watched as the creature retreated. Suddenly, his shoulder became wracked with pain as Sam fell sideways into it. Dean gasped at the pain, but didn't push Sam off. Instead, he maneuvered his brother further towards the right on his chest, where Sam's head would be less painful.

Both brothers sat gasping and Dean held Sam close with his right arm as Sam leaned sideways against his chest. Dean could feel the tremors spasm through his brother's body as Sam gasped for air. Dean knew that they needed to move- get away from the leech and over to a hospital, but he made no attempt to go. Instead he bent his leg up to his chest to allow his brother something to lean against. Sam gradually leaned back, still gasping and shaking against his Dean's chest.

Dean's own breathing was beginning to calm and he found himself staring above his brother's head at his own body. He was lying in a large pool of blood, eyes closed, and a bullet hole in his chest. Dean wondered if that hallucination was a continuation of the former one, or if it was entirely new.

Leaving the hallucination, Dean looked down at his brother. Sam had tears in his eyes and a _very_ dazed look on his face. Realizing that he had to get his brother out of there, Dean leaned his cheek on his brother's hair and gave Sam one last squeeze with his good arm before pulling them both to their feet. Once they were standing, he muttered annoyed in Sam's direction. "I can't believe you shot me."

Sam swayed and sighed, leaning heavily on his brother. "I'm sorry Dean. I…" Sam broke off in a distressed gasp. Dean watched his brother's eyes flutter as Sam fought against passing out. Dean felt slightly dizzy himself, most likely due to blood loss, but there was no time for that now. Slowly and carefully, Dean helped his brother out of the foundation and back to the Impala.

Dean helped Sam into the passenger's seat and was about to shut the door when Sam spoke, "I should drive."

Dean stared at him, not hiding his disbelief and annoyance, "Shut up Sam," and slammed the door closed.

Getting into the driver's seat, Dean pulled out his road atlas. He had to find a hospital that was in another town, but a town that was close enough that he could drive there without passing out. Looking through the Atlas, Dean quickly found a direct route to a medical center in Cedartown, GA. The new hospital would be 20 miles away, but they could be admitted under new names, and without guardianship issues…the cover story would be much easier. Dean would say Sam went hunting in the mountains, got lost, was exposed to the elements, Dean found him, there was a hunting accident, and he was shot. Happy with that cover, Dean explained the story to Sam.

Sam was still dazed, but amazingly still conscious. He nodded, appearing out of it as Dean recited their cover story. Somewhat satisfied that Sam had heard him, Dean threw the car into drive and drove off towards the hospital.

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_Any thoughts, comments, concerns? Lemme know..._


	9. Settling Emotions

_Thanks you all so much for your reviews and constant support. You really know how to lift a girl up- Muchas Gracias!_

_And we've been slimed in cheese. Sorry about this. I was having major writer's block while writing this chapter and it's not one of my favorites, but here ya go anyway…hopefully it'll be ok…_

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**Chapter 9: Settling Emotions**

Beep…beep…beep…Dean ran his right hand through his hair and then winced having forgotten about the IV in that arm. This time it was a green plastic chair that he found himself in and he was pretty sure that he liked the blue one better. Sam was finally asleep and completely unaware that Dean was at his side. It had been a fight and Dean _honestly_ hadn't realized how much fight Sam had had in him. He had seen his brother battle some pretty horrific things and get pretty hurt in the process, but Sam's stubbornness of the past night superceded everything that Dean had seen in the past. Sam had been determined, unbelievably so, not to fall asleep (or pass out as the case may have been) until he KNEW that Dean was okay. That sentiment in and of itself didn't surprise Dean. It was the fact that Sam was still conscious with a blood pressure of 80 over 35 that had shocked the hell out of him. When Sam had first been admitted to the hospital, before Dean had even realized that his brother had been hurt…that was the only other time in Sam's life that his blood pressure had been so low, and then Sam was _unconscious_- and for many hours.

Needless to say, Sam had drawn a lot of attention from essentially all of the hospital staff thereby making it harder to remain inconspicuous. The doctors had even suggested to each other calling down some of their colleagues from Rome, GA so they could see Sam, the amazing scientific wonder. Dean laughed, if they only knew… Luckily Dean had overheard that idea and quickly put a stop to it, threatening to sue and get licenses revoked if his brother's confidentiality was breached- even to other doctors.

As for the gunshot wound…it seemed that Sammy hadn't been the only amazing wonder. The wound was flesh only and the bullet had avoided all major blood vessels. But that alone hadn't been the amazing part. What was amazing was that the bullet had taken the _exact_ same path as the knife had a few days ago. In fact, because the bullet was smaller than the knife had been, the exit wound was the only new damage to Dean's shoulder. He wasn't sure if it was luck or an amazingly freakish coincidence, but between he and Sam, medical history seemed to have been made.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted as Sam began to moan and shift in the sheets. The beeping sped up and Dean immediately reached out a hand to shake his brother from the nightmare. The hand got its response when Sam awoke with a start. "Relax Sam, you were having a nightmare."

Was he? Sam searched his brain vainly to try to determine where he was, what day it was, and what had happened. He was confused…extremely so. He heard the beeps of the heart monitor, Dean was at his side, but he was fairly certain that he had been released from the hospital already. Then of course there was the 'Dean is dead' voice repeating in his head. He was sure he had dealt with that already also. He had called Dean from the hospital. That's how Dean knew he was there. He hadn't truly shot his brother…that had been a hallucination.

Sam looked over at his brother. Dean was lounging in a green plastic chair, his feet up on Sam's bed. His right hand was once again on Sam's shoulder and his left arm was in a sling. An IV ran out of Dean's right arm. The sling and the IV brought memories flooding back and Sam gasped for breath as they overtook him. His vision went dark, but his hearing remained intact. He felt the bed shake as Dean took his feet down and lean over him, "Sam relax. Breathe."

Sam did as he was told, desperately wishing for his eyesight to clear up so that he could see his brother. After a few minutes, Sam managed to calm himself down enough to be able to see Dean. "Dean?"

Dean smiled, "Hey Sammy."

The beeps picked up and Dean shook Sam's shoulder, "Hey…none of that. You stay calm or I go away."

That brought a smile to Sam's face. Dean used to use that ultimatum quite often when they were children, although at that time it was, 'Hey Sammy, dad's right, you need the target practice, now you start shooting or I go away.' It worked every time; at least it did up until he was 14 and 'too old' for that sort of thing. "I'm not twelve Dean."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's comment, "K. Then I'll just g…"

Sam's arm shot out and grabbed his brother's wrist. "No." Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother. Dean was smirking. Sam had grown serious. "Did I really shoot you?"

The smirk remained on Dean's face as he nodded, "And I was just starting to heal there too. You're a pain in the ass Sam."

Dean said it lightly, but Sam didn't smile. Tears came to his eyes, "I'm sorry Dean."

Dean became serious and a little annoyed, "For what?"

Sam stared confused; the answer should have been obvious. Dean's face grew angry as he continued, "For shooting me? 'Cause I gotta say Sam, I didn't love that, but that's not really the part I'm pissed about."

Sam looked surprised; what else was Dean pissed about? Dean's face grew angrier at Sam's unknowing expression, "Fine. If that's what you're sorry about, fine. It's forgiven, water under the bridge."

Sam watched as Dean, clearly still annoyed, stood up and made his way back over to his own bed. Apparently they were sharing a room. Sam racked his brain trying to figure out why Dean was upset. Unfortunately, his brain didn't seem to be working well. "Dean."

Dean ignored him and laid down. Sam tried again, "Dean, I can't think well. Just tell me man."

Sam heard Dean grunt and then begin speaking, "You took off Sam. I got back…you were gone."

Sam cringed and the beeps shot to a quick pace. How could he have forgotten about that? How could he have even done that? He hadn't left a note, hadn't brought his phone, _hadn't brought a gun_?? He sighed and turned his head towards his brother. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

Dean turned away at Sam's apology, shaking his head. Obviously he didn't accept the apology.

The beeps increased more and Sam fought to breathe and explain, "Dean. I wasn't thinking man…still not. I…it didn't even make sense. I just…I didn't want to fail my first solo gig."

Dean scoffed and turned back to his brother, "Yeah, well, you did real good there Sammy. Now not only is the Feeder not dead, but you're in even worse condition and I'm shot. So great job."

The beeps increased more and Sam lost the battle to stay conscious.

Dean heard the drastic increase in beeps almost immediately after he stopped speaking. Recognizing the significance of the sound, Dean pushed himself into a sitting position just in time to see Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and several nurses run into the room. Silently he cursed himself for arguing with his brother given Sam's current condition. Perhaps it would have been better if they had gotten separate hospital rooms…

Dean watched as nurses bustled around his brother frantically. He wasn't sure what they were trying to do until one pulled out a syringe. A similar incident had occurred at the last hospital when Sam's pulse had raced. Dean grew annoyed, wondering why all the nurses felt a need to sedate his already hypotensive brother despite clear orders from the doctors NOT to do so.

As with the last hospital, Dean immediately intervened. Pulling out his IV, Dean jumped off his bed. He walked the four quick steps to his brother's bed and grabbed the nurse's arm before she could inject the sedative into the IV. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Startled, the heavyset nurse responded, "Sir, I need you to let go of my arm."

Dean made no move to do so, "I don't think so. The doctors were clear…no drugs."

The nurse appeared intimidated, but didn't back down. "Sir, if you don't let go of my arm, security will be called and they will sedate _you_."

Dean released the woman's arm as he worked his way between the nurse and Sam. He reached behind his back as he faced off the nurse, and began rubbing his brother's arm in an attempt to slow Sam's pulse. The nurse continued to stare him down, "Mr. Reynolds, you need to step aside."

Dean held the stare, "Not gonna happen."

As with the last time, the beeps began to slow down. Dean opted not to think about the fact that he was rubbing his brother's arm. It made him uncomfortable, but he knew from _a lot_ of past experience that touch (as much as Dean hated it himself) was the quickest way to calm Sam. And, as it stood, extreme situations called for extreme measures. Sam's life depended on him relaxing. Plus, Dean was sure neither of them would be bringing it up later.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted as the doctor walked into the room.

The nurse turned to the older man exasperated, "Dr. Mitchell, we have a problem."

The doctor surveyed the body language between Dean and the nurse and quickly surmised the situation. He waved the nurse to back down and she took two steps back from Dean; she was still visibly annoyed.

The doctor reviewed Sam's vitals, along with the paper tape printout that the heart monitor had created when Sam had lost consciousness. Finally he turned to Dean, "Did this happen spontaneously?"

Unsure of what the doctor's reaction would be, Dean said nothing.

The doctor tried again, "Mr. Reynolds, if this happened spontaneously, then we have a problem. If it was triggered by something…"

"I had a nightmare." Dean, the doctor, and the two nurses turned at Sam's voice.

The doctor nodded, "Alright. We'll continue to monitor this." He turned to Sam, "I'm afraid that with your current blood pressure, we can't give you anything to help you sleep." Dean glared at the nurse to make sure she heard the doctor. She had, and was clearly uncomfortable under Dean's hostile gaze. The nurse turned and left the room.

The doctor watched Dean's soothing motion on Sam's arm before continuing, "You seem to be calming well enough though." He looked at both brothers, "I can't stress enough how important it is for you to keep your pulse down." The doctor held up the paper printout, "You were very lucky Mr. Reynolds. If this happens again, you could very easily have a heart attack or enter arrhythmia."

Sam and Dean both nodded and the doctor and the other nurse left. Dean stopped the arm rubbing and turned back to Sam, "I'm sorry Sam."

Sam sighed, "Dean, I think we both need to stop saying that."

Dean smiled at him, "Hey man. You ran off and then you shot me. You owe me at least a week of repentance before we wipe the slate."

Sam shook his head, "What happened to 'water under the bridge'?"

Dean looked offended, "Dude. You SHOT me."

Sam turned serious, "Dean. Really, I'm…"

Dean shook his head, silencing his brother. He had been teasing…there was no more need for apologies. Neither had meant to hurt the other- not when Dean didn't help Sam, not when Sam left to finish his hunt, not when Sam had shot Dean, and not when Dean had provoked Sam into passing out. They loved each other and they would die for each other - they knew it and it didn't need to be said. The things they were sorry for…they weren't intentional- just mistakes.

Sam was calm now and Dean turned to go back to his bed. "Dean…thanks."

Dean turned back to Sam, confused. Sam looked at his arm as an indication of what he was thanking him for. Dean grew visibly uncomfortable, muttered under his breath, and walked to his bed. So much for the rubbing not being brought up…he would have to explain to Sammy what topics fell into the category of 'not even discussed on the deathbed'.

As Dean laid down, Sam continued, "Not just that. Thanks for coming after me…even though you got shot. I don't think…" There was a pause before he continued, "I don't think I would have lived otherwise."

Not expecting a response from his brother, Sam turned back to sleep.

Even as Sam drifted off, Dean considered what Sam had just said. It was hard to tell if that statement were true. If Dean hadn't shown up, Sam would have shot the real hallucination at the start and probably would have been able to shoot the leech on his own as well. Where it would have gone bad, is when the bullet didn't kill the leech. Then Sam would have had to leave on his own, without a car, and after being fed off. However, if the gun had worked, there was no doubt in Dean's mind that Sam could've handled the leech on his own.

Several feelings seemed to be at war within Dean. The first feeling was…content, with himself. He had made the right decision this time. If he had stayed with the girls and been 'paid' for his services, Sam might have died. The fact that he had gotten a second chance to do the right thing…he was grateful for it. He took a lot of pride in protecting his brother, and for the most part, tonight he had done the job right.

However, there was also a part of Dean that was concerned. Sam had left the motel room alone, without a car, without a phone, without backup, just to prove to himself that he could take out the leech. And based on their last conversation, Sam's confidence had taken a blow. Dean would be the first to admit (although not out loud), he liked it when Sammy needed him around. But the good big brother in him was unhappy. Had his own need to protect Sam caused Sam to doubt himself? Sam not believing in himself was a hard thing to hear…and it wasn't what Dean wanted.

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_Was it ok? Review...lemme know...please?_


	10. Settling Emotions Some More

_Um…whoops. Yeah- so I left off a part of chapter 9 by accident when I posted yesterday. Bad Kyriebess! So, um, here's Chapter 9 Part B. It's short- because it's the second half of the previous chapter, but I did add in the beginning of what would have been chapter 10 so that ya'll had more story to read._

_Thanks for the great feedback and all the reviews! You guys really make this all worthwhile._

_Julie: Thanks for the comments and I'm glad you're enjoying._

_BP: I based the blood pressure info. on my brother. He's got major medical issues, but he passes out whenever his diastolic pressure drops below 45. His diastolic pressure hit 30 once and he stopped breathing- so I figured 35 would be a good number to give Sam. According to the American Heart Association- the numbers aren't as important as compared to how different they are from your normal blood pressure and how quickly they vascilate._

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**Chapter 9 Part B: Settling Emotions…Some More**

A day later, both boys once again found themselves checked out of the hospital and back in the motel room. Upon entering the room, Sam laid down on his bed while Dean headed straight for the shower. After a thorough scrubbing, still picking pieces of porcelain off his hair, Dean exited the shower partially dressed and shirtless. Sam looked up from his bed, "You need help?"

Dean turned from where he was fiddling one-handed with the bandages. Without speaking, Dean threw the bandages at his brother who easily caught them. Sam sat up as Dean walked over and sat on Sam's bed.

Gently and with care, Sam applied ointment and the bandages to his brother's gunshot wound. As he worked, he studied the healing flesh; once again guilty that he had caused the damage in his brother. Lost in his reverie, Sam lightly traced the edge of the exit wound with his finger. Immediately goose bumps appeared on Dean's skin and Dean's voice rang out, "Dude! What the hell are you doing back there? Bandage me; don't molest me."

Sam shook himself out of his thoughts and resumed bandaging his brother. He spoke with a voice filled with regret, "Sorry man, I was just thinking about when I shot you."

Dean sighed loudly, "Don't make me come back there and kick your ass Sam. God…you're worse than me."

Sam laughed- worse than Dean when it came to harboring guilt? He doubted that, but his current guilt wasn't solely related to the wound to Dean's shoulder. He sighed, "I shot you before too."

Not understanding, Dean called back to his brother, "How's that?"

Sam exhaled again, glad that he didn't have to look at his brother's face for this conversation. "The hallucination...it was that I shot you."

Dean laughed, "Well, I'd say, 'don't worry, it'd never happen' but…"

Sam affixed the bandage roughly as a response to his brother's joke. Dean winced, but left the smile on his face. Sam continued speaking from behind his brother's back, "I'm serious man. The first night…the hallucination…you showed up, like you did for real two nights ago. That's why I figured it wasn't you, because it wasn't you the first time."

Noticing that his brother had finished the bandaging, Dean got up and carefully put on a shirt. "So you decided to shoot me again?" Dean paused as he contemplated that question, "Wait. If you shot me the first time, then you would have shot the hallucination…the leech would have been visible." He turned towards his brother, "Why didn't you shoot it then?" If Sam had shot the leech the first night, he would have known that the gun wouldn't work.

Sam stared at his brother, he really hadn't wanted to revisit the hallucination, but a part of him did want Dean to know what he had hallucinated. "I didn't shoot you with _my_ gun the first night. I shot you with the colt."

Dean looked startled, "The colt?"

Sam laid back down and shut his eyes, not wanting to see his brother's face as he explained what had happened in the hallucination. When he had finished, he waited for his brother's response. After several moments of silence, Sam began to wonder if Dean was even still in the room or if he had just spilled his guts to no one. Cautiously, Sam opened his eyes.

Dean stood in the same position that he had been in before Sam had begun the tale. Desperately, Sam tried to read his brother's expression to get a sense of what Dean was thinking. However, once again, Dean's face was a blank mask.

Finally Dean seemed to realize that Sam was waiting for a response, "I'm sorry man…that sucks."

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. That sucks? Well that was the understatement of the year. "That's it? That's all you have to say? 'That sucks'?"

Dean began putting away his dirty clothes, "What do you want me to say? It didn't happen Sam. It was just a hallucination."

Sam thought about Dean's question. What did he want Dean to say? For the most part, he just wanted Dean to say that it was okay…that if the demon was possessing him, it would be ok if Sam used the last bullet to exorcise rather than kill. He had done that with his father and the result was that his father had died anyway _and_ the demon had gotten away. It was a similar scenario to the hallucination and probably where the leech had gotten the idea from. He wanted Dean's reassurance that letting the demon go was okay if it meant saving a life, but there was no way he could ask that. That would be another conversation for another time.

Sensing that he was still being stared at, Dean ceased his ministrations with his bag and turned back to his brother. Sam was still pale, needed a shave, needed a shower and was once again looking as though someone had ran over the cat he had never had. Dean sighed realizing that his brother needed more than to just get the hallucination out in the open. The only thing was, Dean really didn't know what his brother needed to hear. The hallucination hadn't happened and if it were real, it wouldn't have happened that way. If it had been real, Sam would have known where he was aiming and what gun he was shooting with. Forgiveness wasn't necessary in this case; nothing had happened. So what did Sam want? "Sam."

Sam's eyes focused on his brother. Dean continued, "You do get that it never happened?"

Sam looked at the ceiling. The events of the hallucination may never have happened, but _very _similar events had and the resulting feeling of despair was hard to shake. Despair…he was beginning to hate that feeling. Sam turned to his brother, "Despair."

Dean stared trying to figure out why Sam had just randomly blurted out the name of an emotion.

Sam explained further, "That's what it fed on, despair."

Dean nodded, "You know Feeder's can't see or hear. They're attracted to their victims by sensing the emotion that they feed off of."

Sam looked surprised. He hadn't known that. Dean continued, "I get why…the other night, but what the hell happened the first night that you attracted that thing?"

Sam thought back; that was a good question. What had he been thinking of the other night? Suddenly it hit him and he spoke the answer out loud, "Jess."

Dean nodded. After a beat, he responded. "You still thinking about her non-stop…or did something bring her up?"

Sam looked over at his brother. Dean looked as though he had a theory behind that question, but his face still showed no emotion. "It was the college."

Dean sat on his bed, giving Sam his full attention. Correspondingly, Sam sat himself up and pushed himself back so that he was leaning against the headboard. He played with the leg of his pants as he resumed his explanation, "Being in that bar, seeing all those college girls, it just made me remember, you know?" He paused before speaking again, "It wasn't so long ago that that was me Dean." He looked up at his brother who for the first time seemed to have let a piece of the mask down. Dean looked sad.

Sam didn't wait for him to respond, "We were in a bar like that the last night I was with her…before you came to get me. We were there hanging out with friends. I guess being here, around this college…it just reminded me of how much I missed it…and her."

Dean waited a moment before speaking, "Is that why you didn't want to take the gig in the dorm?"

Sam nodded, looking still looking at his pants. Dean shook his head, "Well, why the hell didn't you just say that?"

Sam looked up, "Because I knew you really wanted to do it and I didn't want you to feel like you couldn't because of me."

Both brothers sat in silence before Dean spoke again, "I'm sorry man. I wish you could've stayed at Stanford, gotten the life you wanted."

Sam looked up, somewhat surprised. Dean gave a half smile at the surprise on Sam's face, "Believe it or not, I want you to be happy dude. It's getting to be rare now-a-days."

Sam smiled, "Thanks man…" Sam looked his brother in the eyes, "Jess used to say the same thing to me."

Now it was Dean's turn to look surprised. Sam explained, "When I was at college, I missed my family. When I'm with my family, I miss college." Sam smiled at his brother, "I guess there's just no pleasing me."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, "I always said you were a pain in the ass Sammy." Dean stood up, picked up the car keys, and walked towards the door. "You want too much man. You need to learn to be happy with what you have while you have it." Dean turned towards his brother, "I gotta buy a new jacket, someone ripped a hole through mine. You need anything?"

Sam shook his head and Dean opened the door to leave. "Hey Dean?"

Dean turned back and Sam met his eyes, "I know I don't always act it, but I know what I have and I appreciate having it."

Escaping the awkwardness, Dean left the room. Sam grinned as he caught the smile on his brother's face before Dean turned around. Dean had understood the underlying meaning behind Sam's words.

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Dean returned to the motel room three hours later, food in hand. He walked in to find Sam asleep on the bed, laptop in hand. Careful not to disturb his brother, Dean quietly set down the food before going over and removing the laptop that was precariously balanced on Sam's lap. Picking up the laptop, Dean couldn't help but look at the screen. It was a page discussing mythological creatures that drained emotions- Feeders, although this website didn't call them that. Dean read through the page, but found no information that they didn't already know.

Dean brought the laptop to the table, so he could do some research while eating his burger. He figured that Sam had been trying to determine why the gun hadn't worked on the Feeder and he was curious about that himself. Dean thought back to the other night. The truly odd thing about what had happened was- it wasn't that the gun didn't work _at all_, it was that the gun had stopped the hallucination and injured the Feeder, but didn't kill it. _That_ made no sense.

Before embarking on the internet search, Dean rechecked his father's journal. Reading over the page on Feeders, Dean put his finger on the line, 'a bullet made of silver, iron, and fear induced vomit is necessary to reveal the Feeder and ultimately kill it'. Dean closed the journal and put it away; it confirmed his thoughts. Either nothing should have happened, or the Feeder should have died. Opening a search engine, Dean began searching the internet for answers.

An hour later, Dean closed the laptop in frustration. All the internet sites seemed to support his father's assessment; either the bullet kills or it has no effect. Irritated, Dean rubbed his throbbing shoulder…it was time for more pain meds. Dean walked over to his bag and took two of his pain pills. He set Sam's dinner on his brother's bed for when Sam awoke and then changed for sleep. Laying down on his own bed, he looked over at the clock…8:00 pm. Dean cringed. He was going to bed at 8 pm. When had he become so lame?

Dean's own thoughts seemed to answer him, 'Probably when your brother shot you'. He shook the thoughts away. He wasn't mad at Sam for that…okay, maybe he was a little mad, but not necessarily at Sam. The anger was more directed at the fact that he had been shot at all rather than that it was Sam that had done it. In truth, he still felt horribly guilty for leaving Sam alone on the hunt in the first place.

Sam had almost died…twice. And, in addition, Sam had had to live through the demon possessing his brother and himself shooting Dean…twice. Dean shuddered as he remembered his brother's recount of the hallucination as well as seeing the end result of the hallucination for himself. Sam shouldn't have had to go through that, _especially_ since he had asked Dean for help. Dean shook his head at himself; he had to let it go. Harboring his guilt wouldn't help Sam. Unfortunately, letting things go was never Dean's strong point. But being an example for Sam was, and in this case, letting guilt go was something that Sam would need to do; so Dean would have to do it first.

Finding resolve regarding the guilt issue, Dean pushed his guilt aside and turned to the next issue weighing on his mind…Sam hunting solo. The Feeder hunt was still Sam's and it scared Dean to the core. At first it had been a no brainer. Something had hurt Sam- so it was Dean's job to kill it. Sam was injured, weakened, and had lost the battle with the Feeder twice- so it was Dean's job to come in and finish it for his brother. Those conclusions were obvious. They didn't take much thought…but ever since he had heard the dependence and defeat in his brother's voice, Dean had been reconsidering what was best for his brother.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to take over and kill the Feeder. And the guilt of not being there for Sam further increased Dean's drive to take over the hunt. But hearing Sam's dependency as he thanked Dean for showing up was making Dean rethink his instincts. Sam needed to know that he could do a hunt on his own. Sam _needed_ it. Sam had always been independent, rebellious…it was part of what made him Sam.

Dean had watched a lot of Sammyness die over the years. He had watched his brother lose innocence, trust, admiration, and on some level Dean had even watched him lose his happiness. Dean couldn't watch another part of Sam grow dim. And he knew that this hunt was a make or break moment for his brother.

Understanding the conclusion of his thoughts, Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He was going to have to do the single most difficult thing he had EVER done in his entire life…He was going to have to let Sam hunt alone. The thought scared the shit out of him, which in a way was ironic because it was only three days ago that Dean had sent Sammy off on his own without a second thought. But even though the result would be the same, this time it would be different. Last time Sam went hunting without his brother. This time Sam would hunt solo- with his brother behind him the whole way. That thought gnawing on his mind, Dean turned over and went to sleep. The next few days would be the hardest of his life.

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_As always...Please review...I'd love yo know what you think...  
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	11. The XSoloX Guided Hunt

_Once again, many thanks to those who reviewed chapter 9 part b. I really appreciate the comments and support._

_This isn't the most exciting chapter (this was also written during writer's block) and I was just happy to have written ANYTHING that moved the story along. So, here you go…_

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**Chapter 10: The XSoloX Guided Hunt**

The next day, the brothers were seated on their beds eating the breakfasts that Dean had picked up earlier that morning. Sam spoke as he ate, "How's your shoulder?"

Dean moved his shoulder slightly as though to test it, he looked at Sam with a forlorn expression, "I don't think I'm gonna be able to qualify for Hammer throw in the Olympics this year…that's four more years Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother's sarcasm. Dean smirked and redirected the question, "How's your ankle?"

Sam looked down, "I think the swelling's going down. The air cast helps…and the local."

Dean nodded, "And your blood pressure?"

Sam cleaned up the remains of his breakfast, "I think sleeping for over 20 hours yesterday helped with that."

Dean smiled, "Good, 'cause you've got research to do."

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. He hadn't expected Dean to not include himself in the work on the case. Dean noticed the expression, "What?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean looked suspicious, but let it go. He handed Sam the laptop and cleaned up their garbage. Sam looked over at his brother, "Why do you think the gun didn't work?"

Dean shrugged, "No idea and it did work…it just didn't kill the thing."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Oookay…why do you think it didn't _kill_ it?"

Dean stopped what he was doing, and turned to his brother annoyed, "How the hell should I know Sam? I'm coming in on the tail end of this thing. You're the one that's been going at this. Why do _you _think the bullet didn't kill it?"

Sam pondered the question. Why would the bullet have injured the Feeder, but not kill it? He looked to Dean, "Partial reaction?" Dean stared waiting for further information and Sam continued, "Maybe…I don't know. Maybe the Feeder was affected by some of the bullet's components but not all of them. You know? Like maybe it reacted to the silver and that's why it was injured, but the bullet was missing the element needed to kill it."

A light bulb went off in Dean's head as he heard his brother's theory and combined it with what he had read in his father's journal the night before. He knew the answer. He knew why the bullet had damaged, but didn't kill. Dean went to tell his brother, but then stopped himself. This was Sam's hunt and in order for Sam to feel like he did it himself, Dean would have to let Sam find the answer. Still, even if Dean couldn't _give _him the answer, he could still help guide Sam… "So if that were the case, how would you know which elements damaged the Feeder and what was missing to kill it?"

Sam thought again and shrugged, "I guess we could check dad's journal again. Maybe there's something in there that we missed."

Dean nodded and fished through his bag for their father's journal. Upon finding it he threw it at Sam. Then he waited for Sam to find the answer. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Sam called him over, "Dean. It says here that fear Feeders are killed with bullets made from silver, iron, and fear induced vomit."

Dean played dumb, "So?"

Sam grew animated, "So…for Fear Feeders the vomit is fear induced. Maybe for Despair Feeders it has to be something despair induced." Sam considered his own point more before speaking again, "Maybe the Feeder was injured by the silver and iron, but it needs something produced by despair to kill it."

Dean smiled, that was exactly what he had been thinking. Now the only question was what was the final component of the bullet. Sam echoed his thoughts, "What could be produced by despair?" Then he made a face and looked up at Dean, "You think it's more vomit?"

Dean laughed and shook his head, "If it is, you're on your own dude. I'm not puking and I'm not forging a bullet out of vomit. That's all you."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean sat across from him on the other bed. "You felt despair over the last few days…"

Sam gave a half laugh- he had felt despair over the last year actually- but he didn't voice the thought out loud. Dean continued, "Did you puke?"

Sam shook his head and leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed. "No."

Dean tried again, "Well, what did you do?"

Sam thought back to the two nights he had faced the Feeder. His memories were fuzzy and primarily focused on what he was seeing rather than his own reaction. He reflected carefully, trying to separate what his body's response was from the pain of the memories. It was difficult; the memories of Dean bleeding on the floor, both real and imaginary, were vivid. Sam opened his eyes and Dean was looking at him. He had a laid-back look on his face as he patiently waited for Sam to come to an answer.

Sam shook his head in apology, "I don't know what I did."

Dean leaned forward, quiet and calm, "You're trying too hard Sammy. Don't think about the hallucination or the feelings. Just take a snapshot of yourself in the foundation."

Sam closed his eyes again as he followed his brother's advice. A minute later, he reopened his eyes, "I was crying."

Dean nodded as though he had known and had been waiting for Sam to realize it. Sam looked thoughtful, "You think the last element is tears born of despair?"

Dean shrugged, "Dunno. But that sounds about as good as anything else we've got." He got up and put on his jacket.

Sam looked at him confused, "Where are you going?"

Dean smirked, "I'm gonna go clean the car. There's still blood on the seat from when you shot me."

Sam rolled his eyes- he was never going to hear the end of that one. "Give it a rest Dean. I'm gonna be seventy years old and still hearing about that. Besides, I never would have shot you if you hadn't shown up unexpectedly."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "You're damn straight you're gonna be hearing about it when you're seventy. You freakin' shot me."

Sam laughed as his brother went on, "And I wouldn't have shown up unexpectedly if _you _hadn't gone all Houdini on my ass."

Sam continued laughing, "Yeah well, you don't have to worry about that happening again. I've learned my lesson, man. From now on I'll wait for you before I go off looking to kill an evil beast."

Dean turned around to prevent his brother from seeing the frown elicited by that comment. On some level, Dean was comforted to hear it. It would be nice to not have to worry about what Sam was going to do. It would be nice to know that Sam wouldn't take unnecessary risks or leave for anywhere without him. But that wasn't Sam. Sam took unnecessary risks, did stupid things, put himself in danger to prove himself…that was who Sam was. And as much as it would give Dean a more peaceful existence to have an obedient and compliant Sam around…then he wouldn't be having _Sam_ around. Sam's latest comment only served to reassure Dean that he had made the right decision. Sam was meant to live- not be preserved. There was no point in protecting someone if the protection slowly killed them- then what would be left to protect?

Dean turned back to his brother and grinned. Sam squirmed under the grin before questioning his brother, "What?"

Dean said nothing- just continued grinning. Sam grew annoyed and self conscious, "What damn it? What the hell are you looking at me like that for?"

Dean laughed, "Nothing, just wanted to annoy you…you're so easy Sam." Sam glared at his brother through squinted eyes and Dean continued talking. "You remember that time I convinced you that you were invisible?"

Sam glared harder. He did remember that time and it served to be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. Seeing Sam's reaction, Dean laughed harder tears coming from his eyes, "Oh man. That was some good stuff." He laughed more lost in the memory, "Damn Sammy, you know, for all we grew up with, all we knew about, you had to be one of the most gullible kids that ever lived."

Sam growled from his position on the bed, feeling much less guilty about having shot his brother. "That incident scarred me for life Dean."

Dean tried to get his laughter under control, "Oh give me a break Sam. You needed some fun back then…"

Sam interrupted, appalled, "Fun? You think that was fun for me?!"

Dean spoke over him, unphased by the interruption, "…still do. Hey look, I just acted like you were invisible. You were the one who took the opportunity to walk around naked." Dean resumed his hysterical laughter at the memory of his brother walking into the living room exposing himself to their father, Dean, and three other hunters- and then trying to explain it by saying that he thought he was invisible.

Sam threw the complimentary bible at his brother's head. "Stop laughing. It wasn't funny."

Dean pinched his lips together and tried to contain the laughter for a moment before it once again burst out of his lips, "Yeah…it really was."

Sam returned to his glare. Eventually Dean calmed, somewhat, and cleared his throat. He walked towards the door, "Your Chrism+ vial is empty right?"

Sam looked at him confused, almost afraid after their last conversation of where Dean was going with that question, "Yeah?"

"And it's cleaned?"

Once again Sam answered warily, "Yeah?"

Dean nodded, "Good. That should be perfect."

Sam shook his head, not understanding, "Dean…perfect for what?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's lack of understanding, "Tears of despair Sam. You're gonna need something to collect them in if you're gonna forge a bullet out of them."

"Well, where am I supposed to get them from?"

Dean looked at Sam- disbelieving the question and the answer dawned on Sam. He made a face, "You couldn't have told me this two days ago when I was crying them?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "You think you'll have trouble finding something to despair about?"

Sam didn't know if he should glare at his brother or answer seriously as he was unable to tell if Dean was asking the question genuinely. Finally, Sam just shook his head and sighed. He threw his hands over his face, "I guess not. Although I was really hoping not to go there today."

Dean opened the door to walk out, but then stopped. He turned to Sam seriously, "Your blood pressure okay to do this?"

Sam considered that. He hadn't felt too bad since he had awoken in the morning, but he definitely didn't have his old strength back. Although, how much was the ankle and how much was the blood pressure, he couldn't tell. Realizing that Dean was still waiting for an answer, he uncovered his face and looked at his brother. "Yeah it's okay. Besides, if it's not me, then who's gonna do it? We both know you're not."

Dean smiled at that- that was true. No way in HELL was he doing it, but there was another possibility, "I could ask one of the girls. I'm sure they could cry…plus they owe me."

Sam considered it, he would have loved to get out of this particular task, but using the girls would be taking a risk. The tears had to be born of despair- not anything else. It was too risky asking someone else to cry them. He had already failed to kill the Feeder twice. He had a feeling that the third time would be his last chance at bat…and he wasn't going to take any risks with it. With him- there was no risk. He _knew_ he could despair. He looked back at Dean and shook his head, "No. I'll do it."

Dean nodded. "I'll be outside in the car. I got my cell with me. Call me if you need me."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean. I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to wallow in my thoughts…purposefully."

Dean smirked, "Yeah, no different than any other day."

Sam glared and Dean left the room…still smirking.

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+ Chrism is a mixture of oil of olives and balsam that has been blessed in a special way. It is used in Catholicism during baptisms and confirmations. It is believed that being anointed with the oil creates a seal on the person. Sealing their soul off from the corruption of evil. 

It's some hard core stuff: here's a bit about how it's blessed:

The oil and balsam, being prepared in the sacristy beforehand, are carried in solemn procession to the sanctuary after the Communion, and placed on a table. Then the balsam, held on a silver salver, is blessed, and similarly the olive-oil, which is reserved in a silver jar. After this the balsam is mixed with the oil. Then, the chrism, being perfected with a final prayer, receives the homage of all the sacred ministers present, making each a triple genuflection towards it, and each time saying the words, Ave sanctum chrisma. After the ceremony it is taken back to the sacristy, and distributed among the priests who take it away in silver vessels commonly called oil-stocks, what remains being securely and reverently guarded under lock and key. (Cf. Catalani, Com. in Rom. Pont., I, 120; Bernard. Le Pontifical, II, 470-495.)

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_As always, please review and let me know what you think..._


	12. Hunting

_So the site's being, oh what's a good word for it…tempermental. Anyway, I am replying to all the reviews- I'm not sure if you're getting the replies though- but I'm sure you will eventually. In the meantime, just know that I appreciate all your reviews so much, they really do make my day. So, thank you._

_JRAismine: Thanks for the compliments, I'm glad you're enjoying the banter and Sam's invisibility._

_There's a lot in this chapter and about half of it was written outside of writer's block- so hopefully it'll be interesting…Sam's goin' on a Feeder hunt...  
_

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**Chapter 11: Hunting**

Three hours later, Dean knocked on the motel door and then waited 10 seconds before walking in. As he entered, he saw Sam lying on the bed rubbing his eyes and clearly waking up. Sam spoke as Dean entered the room, "Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, spirits, demons…you run towards them, guns blazing- but throw in some tears and you turn tail for high ground."

Dean rolled his eyes, "You okay now?"

Sam, still smirking, nodded, "Yeah. You can relax…the scary tears are gone."

"You're pushing it Sam." Sam laughed and Dean made his way back to the door, "Seriously…you alright?"

Sam shrugged and pushed himself up against the headboard, "I was dizzy, but it was okay. I slept it off." He held up the chrism vial, "The tears of despair are ready to go."

Dean nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer, "I'll get the reloading press and mould from the car."

Sam nodded, "Could you get the silver and iron pot also?"

Dean gave his brother an obvious look and Sam smiled, embarrassed, "Just checking."

Dean rolled his eyes, "You want to tell me to bring in the brass rounds and the torch too? I know what I'm doing Sam." Sam blushed and Dean, annoyed that he had been questioned, left to bring the bullet forging equipment in from the car.

A half hour later, Dean and Sam worked together, forging bullets from silver, iron, and tears of despair. In the end, there had been enough tears to forge 5 bullets. Sam bit his lip as he placed the last bullet into the speed loader. He looked at his brother, "I guess I'll have to do some more wallowing…"

Dean looked over, confused, "What for? You only need two bullets. One for the hallucination and one for the Feeder. You've got five. How many shots you planning to miss?"

Sam shook his head, "We should each have at least five. What if it attacks you? You'll have no way to shoot the hallucination."

Dean waved his brother off and began packing up the equipment. "First of all, it clearly has a fondness for your whiny ass." He looked over at Sam, "Let's face it Sam, no one does anguish quite as good as you." Sam glared, but said nothing.

Smirking, Dean resumed his clean up of the reloading equipment, "Second, we don't even know if tears of despair is the missing ingredient. You just made that up. No point in wasting more silver or iron if the bullets aren't gonna kill it."

Sam hobbled his way back over to the bed, "You think they won't work?"

Dean shrugged as he carried the equipment back out to the car, "I have no idea Sam. It sounds good, but who the hell knows." He turned to look at his brother, "What I think is that there should be an escape plan in case it all goes to hell…again."

Sam sat on his bed, thinking, as his brother returned all the equipment to the car. He had been so focused on crying and then forging the bullets that he hadn't considered that the bullets might not work. But apparently Dean had been thinking it. Sam sighed. He had really screwed up this hunt. First he almost gotten himself killed, then he had almost gotten Dean killed, and now they were going in for a third try with five bullets (not nearly enough) that might not even work.

Dean was right, he was a prime victim for despair. Hell, he had practically handed himself over to the thing both times so far. He went after a Feeder and let himself get emotional during the hunt. It was a rookie mistake and he should have known better. Dean would never have made that mistake. Sam gave a humorless laugh, if the hunt had been Dean's, it would have been finished by now. In fact, Dean's hunt _was _finished by now and that was despite the fact that he had been stabbed.

Dean re-entered the room and Sam shook himself out of his thoughts. Dean walked up to him, "Hey." Sam looked up and Dean spoke again, "I'm gonna get some grub. Any requests?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Take me with you?"

Dean stepped back surprised and Sam explained, "I've been cooped up here with my own thoughts all day. I just need to get out."

Dean nodded although Sam had interfered with his intentions. He had expected Sam to come up with the escape plan while he brought them back some food, but apparently Sam had other ideas. It was a good idea though. Sam _had _been incapacitated for a while now and if he was going to go up against the Feeder again, alone, he would need to get used to moving again.

Dean shook his brother's leg, "Well get up then. We'll go to the diner on the other side of the river. Food's great there. Almost as good as that diner in Emmett."

Sam raised his eyebrows as he stood up, "Wow. I didn't think anything would ever match the diner in Emmett."

Dean handed his brother his crutches, "I said almost as good." Dean stared off into space, a fond look in his eye, "That diner in Emmett…" He shook his head and turned to Sam, "We should head over that way after this. That food's worth it."

Sam shook his head and followed his brother out to the car. Emmett, Idaho had been eight years ago. Sam had no idea why Dean had dubbed that diner the best in America. The food had been good, but it didn't seem all that different than any other diner food. Sam shook his head as he got into the car. The Emmett diner had become the standard of excellence to which Dean compared all other food and Sam didn't have the heart to tell his brother that the Emmett diner had long been shut down.

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6:30 the next evening, the brothers sat in the motel room, going over the plan. Both were feeling considerably better. Dean's shoulder was less painful, along with Sam's ankle and Sam was now able to consistently move around without becoming dizzy or passing out. The sun was beginning to set and it wouldn't be long before the construction site would be empty for the evening.

Sam spoke while checking his weapons on his bed, "Ok, so we go in, I'll start thinking about Jess or dad or whatever, and I'm guessing it shouldn't take too long before the Feeder attacks."

Dean nodded in agreement with the plan, "Right. Then you shoot the hallucination and the leech will appear. It'll probably be on you, so be prepared to have to shoot with your hand facing either backwards or to the side."

Sam modeled the movement with his hand before nodding, "Yeah. Ok." He looked up at his brother, "Hopefully, the Feeder'll explode…if not…I'll pull out the other gun with the fear Feeder bullets and that should hurt it enough to give us enough time to get the hell out of there." He looked up hopefully at his brother for reassurance.

Dean smiled, "It's as good a plan as any other."

Sam finished checking his weapons and then stood up, collecting his crutches. He looked over at Dean, "You ready to go?"

Dean nodded and walked with Sam to the door. Sam exited first and Dean called after him. Sam turned, "What?"

Dean shrugged, "I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you to be careful."

Sam stared at his brother confused, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean looked as though the answer was obvious, "It's your hunt Sam. You need to finish it alone."

Sam stared at Dean in shock. The thought of facing the Feeder for the third time…and doing it alone, scared the crap out of him. He shook his head at his brother, "I can't Dean. This thing's already beat me…twice."

Dean pointed a finger at his brother's chest, "_That's _exactly why you need to do this on your own. Everybody looses a battle every now and then. I have. I mean look at what happened with the poltergeist. Hell, even dad lost his share of battles. But afterwards, you pick yourself up and you keep going back until you end the evil son of a bitch."

Sam shook his head again, "Yeah Dean, but I can't do it by myself."

Dean looked his brother directly in the eyes, "You can Sam."

Sam went to disagree again but stopped when Dean put his hand on his shoulder, "Sam, you know me, dude. You think I would EVER let you go off on your own if I had even one _slight_ doubt that you couldn't take care of this? You think I would ever risk you like that? Come on man, you _know _me."

Sam stared at his brother with a loss for words. He did know Dean, and Dean was right- there was no way Dean would ever take that risk…not unless he was _sure _that Sam could handle the Feeder on his own. Sam considered this…Dean truly believed that Sam could handle the Feeder on his own…despite everything that had happened? The part of Sam that idolized Dean, trusted Dean, believed Dean to be infallible spurred to life. It fed off of Dean's words and Sam felt his confidence growing. Dean believed he could do this on his own and suddenly- so did Sam.

Dean's hand squeezed his shoulder, "You got this one Sammy. You don't need me to finish it." Dean turned his brother around and pushed him towards the car, "Now go kill that ugly sucker. I'll be here."

Sam turned back towards Dean, "You're not going to randomly show up? Dean, I really don't want to shoot you again."

Dean rolled his eyes and smirked, "You know Sam, I got other things to do than take care of your ass."

Sam raised his eyebrows in challenge. Dean smirked and pointed at the TV, "They got the world's best dog tricks on Letterman tonight."

Sam laughed and Dean nodded towards the car, "Get going. I'll see you when you get back."

Sam turned towards the car and waved at Dean behind his back, "Have fun with the dogs."

Dean shot back, "Have fun with the leech."

"Dick."

"One of the longest and the best Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes and shuddered, he had hadn't needed that image. Shaking his head at his brother's crudeness, he got into the car. He had a Feeder to kill.

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Sam sighed as he found himself…for the third time now…sitting inside the foundation of the construction site. However, this time, he was considerably more prepared. This time he had a cell phone, a plan, bullets that would hopefully work, and most importantly a gun. He shook his head as he remembered three nights ago when he had arrived without a weapon. He was grateful that Dean hadn't seemed to notice that fact.

Sam looked down at the gun in his hands willing himself to feel despair. He almost laughed. Every day for the past year and a half he had felt despair; maybe not in such large amounts as recently, but at least a little everyday. And now here he sat, purposefully trying to despair, to use himself as bait, and he was having a hard time.

It was Dean's fault really. Sam smiled. Dean's little pep talk had pepped him up _too much_. He was 23 years old, but his brother's opinions meant a lot to him…apparently. And they meant even more than Sam would have ever thought. Dean's confidence in him had given him a huge high. So much so that the despair he needed was almost unobtainable. Almost…

Sam concentrated on Jess. He remembered the hallucination- hearing her voice, accusing him. It was true, Jess was innocent. Just a girl from a small town that had gotten excited when she was accepted into Stanford…and had gotten even more excited when Sam asked her out. She never asked to be involved with demons and the supernatural…never even knew that she _was _involved with demons and the supernatural. Sam wondered for the millionth time what her last moments were like. What had the demon said to her? Did she know how much Sam had lied to her? Had she died angry with him? And only moments before she had baked the cookies and written a love note.

Sam gasped as he felt the hollow hole in his chest reopen. Tears filled his eyes and he remembered how great he had had it and how it would never be that way again. The despair was back and Sam shifted, waiting for the hallucination to arrive. So far though…things were quiet. Sam continued his wallowing, remembering how much he had loved Jessica and imagining how horrible her last moments were. But as time went by, Sam began to despair less and wonder more…the Feeder still hadn't appeared.

After a half hour, Sam gave up on despairing and instead began to consider explanations as to why the Feeder was not appearing. His initial thought was that perhaps they _had_ killed the Feeder the other night. Examining this, Sam thought back to that night. His memory was fuzzy and scattered. He remembered shooting Dean, Dean kicking him, shooting the hallucination, hearing Jess' voice, and then just Dean surrounding him. That thought stopped Sam for a moment as he had the distinct feeling that Dean had hugged him or held him…either way, more contact than Dean usually allowed for. Sam had no idea if that part was real or imagined and even more frustrating was the realization that he had no memory of Dean shooting the Feeder. He only knew what Dean had said, which was that he had shot the Feeder, but it hadn't died. Sam stopped his thoughts again…if Dean said that the Feeder hadn't died, then the Feeder hadn't died.

So that bared the question, why wasn't it attacking. There were only two possible explanations that Sam could think of or the lack of attack: either the Feeder was holding off for some reason, or it wasn't there anymore. Sam hit his head back against the wall of the foundation; if only the damn thing wasn't invisible. Sam froze…what if there was a way to make it visible?

Feeders were transparent and intangible, but they still left marks behind. That's how Sam knew the Feeder was there in the first place. The Feeder had left it's Latin mark behind and Sam had picked it up under the blacklight. Therefore, it was possible that Sam would be able to use the blacklight again, to see the Feeder, or at the very least, gain more information about the Feeder's whereabouts. With that thought in mind, Sam made his way out of the foundation and back to the car.

Five minutes later, he returned, blacklight in hand. Switching the light on, Sam used the light to scan the foundation floor. Immediately he found the two messages of victito despero that he had found on his first visit to the foundation. Scanning more of the area, Sam found a new marking of the phrase in the spot where his hallucination of Dean's death had occurred. Finally, traveling further along the foundation floor, Sam found what he was looking for…

It was a trail, illuminated in the blacklight, and invisible to the naked eye. The trail began where Sam had sat two nights ago, after he had shot Dean. Sam crouched down to examine the iridescent marks. It was the creature's blood…or at least that's what it appeared to be. Dean's shot hadn't killed the creature, but it had been enough to wound it. Sam stood up and using the blacklight, began to follow the irregular path that the creature had left.

As he tracked the path out of the foundation and along the construction site, Sam found himself beginning to smile. _This _was hunting. He wasn't sitting as bait, waiting for something to attack. Now he was actually _hunting _the creature down. It felt good.

Sam stopped as he reached what appeared to be the end of the Feeder's trail and looked around. He was standing in a grass field along the side of the construction site. The iridescent smears led to this point and then disappeared. He shook his head confused, where could the Feeder have gone?

Looking for an explanation, Sam crouched closer to the ground. And that's when he saw them…tire marks in the grass. A vehicle had been parked there and then driven away. Sam put his head in his hands. The Feeder had entered someone's car, and it could have been anybody's. At least twenty construction worker's parked in the site every day.

Sam considered his options. He could get a list of the construction workers and then blacklight all their cars, looking for the iridescent smears. He could hide out on the site and then blacklight the cars tomorrow morning. Or, he could wait until someone died. Sam shook his head, none of the alternatives were appealing. All three required waiting and the longer he waited, the more time the Feeder would have to regroup and attack. As it was, it had already been two days since the Feeder had last attacked. Sam didn't want to wait any longer.

As he pondered what his best option was, Sam noticed a dark spot on the ground, several feet away from him. Sam leaned in to take a closer look. The grass had been stained a dark red in the area- almost black. Sam examined the stain more closely…it was blood. The meaning of that discovery frightened Sam onto his ass. There was only one person at this construction site within the last few days that had bled enough to leave that stain.

Sam pulled his cell phone from his pocket. If the Feeder had hitched a ride in the Impala, it could be anywhere, at the hospital, at the motel, at the diner, anywhere. But _anywhere _was better than the scenario going through his mind at the moment. Quickly he pushed his first speed dial.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up…" The phone continued to ring.

Sam waited six rings, before hearing a voice on the other end, "Hey. You've reached Dean Winchester. Leave a message, I'll call you back."

Sam could barely keep the panic out of his voice as he spoke. Dean should have picked up. Dean would have been sitting on his phone. He may have sounded fully confident that Sam could handle the hunt alone, but Sam knew his brother. After everything that had happened with the Feeder, Dean would have been staring at his cell, ready to move at the drop of a hat if Sam called. For Dean to not answer the phone… "Hey Dean. Uh…I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. The Feeder's gone. I think it hitched a ride with us to…somewhere. Be careful okay. Don't trust anything you see. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Sam wasted no time. Shoving the phone back in his pocket and ignoring his crutches and broken ankle, Sam took off full speed for the car. A quick once over with the blacklight in the backseat gave Sam all the confirmation he needed. The Feeder's blood was smeared along the seat; the Feeder had been there. Desperate to get to his brother, Sam threw the car into drive and slammed down on the accelerator. The wheels spun leaving a layer of rubber on the asphalt. Finally, the car caught on and shot forward. Sam kept the pedal flat on the floor. He had to get back to the motel…now.

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_Uh oh...what's gonna happen??? Review!!! Please?_


	13. The Death of a Feeder

_And we've reached the end. Thank you all for sticking with the story and reading along through all the ups and downs of my writing. And thank you especially to all those who took the time to review and let me know what you thought as we went on this little journey._

_I have been replying to all the reviews and I'm sure you'll get them in a few weeks. :-p_

_For Spuffyshipper who I can't reply to: Thanks for the review and I agree- poor Sam and poor Dean. At least they can relax now (well, if you don't count their life long demon hunt)._

_As for this chapter, well, as it happened, a new muse came upon me and well, I ended up writing something that was COMPLETELY uncharacteristic of me. Which is okay, it's nice to change things up every now and then. Hopefully you will all like it even though it's light on the Sam angst. I also threw in some Season 2 themes which I've been actively avoiding throughout the story._

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**Chapter 12: Death of a Feeder**

Sam pulled into the motel parking lot with an abrupt stop. Throwing the car into park, he immediately pulled out his gun and cautiously limped over to the window of his room. As desperate as he was to get to his brother, he still needed to handle the situation correctly. It couldn't help Dean if he ran into the situation blind.

The motel parking lot was quiet, as it had been for several days. Sam was fairly sure that there were no other guests staying in the surrounding rooms, which was a reassuring thought. Not having to explain the sound of gunshots would mean one less thing to worry about.

Crouching under the motel window, Sam could make out the sound of his brother's voice. The window was closed and therefore, Sam was unable to make out the words his brother was saying. Fortunately, however, the walls _were _thin enough for Dean's tone to come through. Sam felt his body stiffen at Dean's voice. Dean sounded defeated. It was a sound he had heard only a select number of times throughout his life and every one of those occasions had been painfully burned into Sam's memory.

In an effort to gather more information, Sam attempted to look through the window. On the inside, the gap between the curtains was just big enough for Sam to ascertain his brother's position and estimate, based on where Dean was looking, where the hallucination was. Dean was sliding down the wall, opposite the window. He was openly crying and his eyes held a depth of despair that Sam had never before witnessed in his brother. The site of Dean made Sam's heart drop and immediately a fierce protectiveness and outrage surged through Sam's body.

It was one thing for the Feeder to cause _him _to despair, but nothing…NOTHING did that to Dean- not while Sam was still breathing. Not waiting any longer, Sam stood up and quickly opened the motel door.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean look up at the door, clearly startled by Sam's appearance. The hallucination wasn't visible to Sam, but he took the shot anyway, trying to gauge where the hallucination was based on where Dean had been staring.

The shot met its mark and a loud screech filled the room. Sam had only moments to process the now visible image of their father, burnt and clearly tortured. The Feeder had appeared, it's mouth covering Dean's ear, neck, and shoulder, much as it had done to Sam. Sam wasted no more time and quickly shot the leech.

The Feeder exploded upon the bullet's impact, sending flaming pieces of its flesh throughout the motel room. Obviously, the tears of despair _had _been the missing ingredient.

A large portion of the Feeder remained intact during its explosion and was flopping about the room as it slowly burned. Fury flowed through Sam's body, starting in his chest and spreading outward through his arms, legs, and head. The sight of Dean, broken by a creature that Sam should have killed days ago, evaporated any self-control or compassion that Sam had. He eyed the pain-filled flopping mass with no trace of sympathy. Slowly limping up to the flailing leech, Sam leveled his gun. With hatred in his eyes, Sam shot the Feeder remains repeatedly- using the last three bullets. He watched with satisfaction as the creature exploded three more times, screeching in pain and leaving nothing but flaming piles of ash…NOTHING hurt his brother.

In a somewhat out of body experience, Sam looked down at himself and his current position; it wasn't like him. Briefly he wondered when he had become Dean. He shook his head, remembering the incident with the Striga where Dean had shot the witch that had attacked Sam several more times after the creature was already dead. So this was what it felt like to be on Dean's end. Sure, he had saved Dean's ass before. Sure, he had killed evil before. But usually when he saved Dean's ass, they then killed the evil _together_. For Sam to do both on his own was a rarity and the feeling of protectiveness it evoked made Sam understand his brother considerably more.

Shaking himself from introspection, Sam returned to the situation at hand- Dean…

"Dean? You okay?"

Dean sat with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chin and arms around his knees; his head was down. Ignoring the flames for the moment, Sam moved closer to his brother, touched his back, and tried again, "Dean?"

Dean's head stayed down, but he lifted his hand in a thumb's up sign. Sam smiled. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was remembering that night with the Striga. He had no idea why _that_ night, but both of their minds had gone there- although they had taken on each other's roles.

Assured that Dean was okay for the moment, Sam limped out of the room and retrieved the fire extinguisher from the car. Hurrying back to the room, Sam quickly doused all the flaming remains with the white foam. Within seconds, the fire was out. The Feeder's remains had all burned to ashes, mingling with the charred remains of carpet, duvet, and upholstery. They were going to need to skip out during the night- or pay a lot of money in motel damages.

Sam threw down the fire extinguisher and limped his way back to his brother. Sam crouched down next to him; Dean was still in the same position. Throwing caution to the wind, Sam put his arm around his brother, giving him a half hug. Dean didn't fight the support, but remained in his contracted position; a sign to Sam that his brother had not been left unharmed by the Feeder's attack. Rarely did Dean accept any form of comfort- especially physical. After a few moments, Sam stepped back, leaving one arm across his brother's back, and putting a hand on his brother's good arm. "Dean?"

Sam heard Dean take in a breath, although his head remained down. Sam knew the feelings that the Feeder evoked and it literally hurt Sam to know that Dean was in that pain. Sam remembered the tortured image of their father, the image that Dean had hallucinated. Dean had been through enough without the added warped hallucination. Sam turned back to his brother, "Dean? It's dead."

Dean's head lifted at that statement and Sam saw the tears and the red rims around his brother's eyes. Sam involuntarily tightened his grip on his brother's arm. Dean didn't look at Sam, but stared straight ahead at the charred areas of the room. Then he spoke through his tears, "That thing sucks."

Sam laughed. He couldn't help but think that Dean should get an award for understating things. "Yeah…it does. Hey…you want me to resurrect it and kill it again for you?"

Dean laughed, uncurling himself. His knees remained up, but he released himself enough to sit back against the wall and wipe his eyes and nose with his arm. Finally, he looked at his brother. Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm and smiled gently at him. Dean smiled back, "Nice job." He nodded at the blackened room.

Sam agreed, "Yeah. So…how'd I do for my first solo hunt?"

Dean wiped his eyes again before answering, "Not bad. How'd you figure out it was here…and _why_ the hell was it here?"

"Well, when it wasn't at the construction site, I figured it was probably somewhere else. I followed its trail with a blacklight. It hitched a ride in the Impala."

Dean's face grew severe and his voice lowered, "It was in my car…"

Sam's hand rubbed his brother's shoulder, "Relax Dean. Remember what this thing does to blood pressure."

Dean waved him off, "It's only been feeding off me for like a half hour. It fed off you what? Six- seven hours?"

"The first night?" Dean nodded. Sam continued, "First night it fed for eight hours. Still…do me a favor and relax for now…please."

Dean nodded and allowed Sam to help him stand up. Then Dean gave his brother a surveying look, "You okay?"

Sam smiled, "Fine. You took the brunt this time."

Dean scowled and with Sam's support, slowly made his way to the bed. "I don't remember that being part of the plan Sammy."

Sam helped his brother lay down on the bed, "Sorry bout that."

Dean rolled his eyes as he laid back. Then he looked at his brother, "Thanks Sammy. For saving my life…and ending…" he nodded towards the area where the hallucination had been, "_that_."

Sam shook his head, "Don't." Then he laughed, "Now I only owe you about 300 more rescues…"

Dean closed his eyes and smiled, "More like 3000."

Sam lightly punched his brother's arm, "Ass."

"Jerk."

Sam smiled and began his attempt at cleaning the room as best he could. His first solo hunt was complete and for the most part, he had been successful. He couldn't say that it had gone without a hitch as there had been _many_ stumbling blocks (some literal) along the way- but in the end, he had hunted and defeated the evil creature.

He was happy to know that he could do it. He was confident now that if the need presented himself, he could hunt solo. Ultimately, he was glad to have had the experience, but there was no way in HELL that he would EVER willingly do that again. And suddenly, with more clarity than ever before, Sam understood Dean's anger and hurt at his leaving for Stanford. Hunting solo sucked…and Sam remembered the conversation he had with his brother when Dean first arrived at his college apartment:

"_I can't do this alone."_

"_Yes you can."_

"_Yeah. Well, I don't want to."_

And that had been the honest truth. Dean _could _have done it alone, but he didn't want to- no one would. Once again Sam bit back his guilt at having ignorantly abandoned his brother. He hadn't known how much harder…or lonelier it was hunting solo. And _his _solo hunt was with Dean standing by his side. Sam shook his head and walked back to where Dean lay sleeping.

Touching his brother's hand, Sam returned to his brother the words Dean had issued to him fourteen years ago at the end of Sam's first hunt, "From now on, when we hunt…you and I always stay together."

Believing his brother to be asleep, Sam was startled when Dean smiled and opened his eyes, "Wise words. I think I heard them somewhere before. Clearly they came from someone who was incredibly intelligent and wise beyond his years."

Sam couldn't help but think that was true, Dean had always been wise beyond his years. It was one of the many reasons that Sam had always looked up to Dean. But there was no need to tell Dean that…rolling his eyes, Sam quipped back at his brother, "As I remember it…it was that same _incredibly intelligent _person who was the one who originally suggested that we hunt solo in this town."

Dean's reaction surprised Sam as his brother's face quickly filled with pain and regret. Sam shook his head at his brother, confused, "Joke Dean…"

Dean paused before responding to his brother, "Did you see the hallucination?"

Sam grew even more confused, but nodded, "Yeah…I shot where it looked like you were looking and I saw da- uh…the hallucination."

Dean closed his eyes, clearly assaulted by the memory of the image and then shook his head, "No, man. The other hallucination."

Sam stepped back and then sat on the edge of his brother's bed. "No. There were two?"

Dean opened his eyes, staring at Sam. "The other was you. Your ghost. The hunt went bad. You blamed me for suggesting the solo hunts to begin with."

Sam cringed, that explained Dean's reaction to his joke. Wanting to help his brother, Sam began to reassure him, "Dean…" but Dean cut him off, "Don't. I know, okay. It's just…it felt real." Dean shook his head and repeated himself, "Don't…" Then he looked Sam in the eye, "I know."

Sam patted his brother's arm and stood up. "You need anything?"

Dean shrugged, "Smell kinda has me in the mood for barbeque."

Sam made a face, "There's something wrong with you, you know that?"

Dean folded his hands behind his head, trying to appear innocent. "What?"

Sam glared and stood up, resuming his attempts to clean the room.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean watched his brother limp around the room. The hallucination had shaken him- badly. Dean found himself for not the first time, admiring his brother's strength. Dean felt wiped and distressed after just a half hour with the Feeder. Yet Sam had survived an eight hour encounter with the creature, then faced it again, survived another encounter, and then still had the strength and courage to go back a third time. Dean couldn't imagine the pain of spending _one _hour with the Feeder, much less eight.

Sammy was an amazing person and Dean smiled as he remembered his brother storming into the room and saving his ass. From his defeated position on the side of the room, Dean had watched Sam attack the hallucination and then kill the Feeder. The look on Sam's face, the protectiveness, the anger, the determination- they were looks Dean knew well and Dean didn't have to guess where Sam had learned them from. Their father had passed those looks down to Dean and apparently, Dean had passed them along to Sam…or maybe Sam had picked them up from their father as well. Either way, it had been interesting to be on the other side, the one watching, rather than giving the looks.

Dean was proud of his brother. He still wasn't sure if he should have suggested the solo hunts to begin with. And he _knew _he shouldn't have suggested that Sam hunt solo for the original reasons that he had, but in the end, it may not have been an all bad suggestion. Sam was clearly more confident than he had been before and based on Sam's 'we stay together' comment, it was clear that Sam had learned and grown with this hunt…and he wasn't the only one.

Dean had learned and grown as well. It hadn't been easy to put aside his protectiveness and allow Sam to finish the hunt after he had been hurt. If Sam had seen Dean pacing the room after he had left tonight, he would've had enough fodder to mock Dean with for the rest of his life. Dean had been a nervous wreck. He couldn't sit still, he had looked out the window at least 200 times, he had bitten all of his nails down below the skin line, and ran through a series of mental horrific outcomes that would have led to Sam's death…and that was probably what had made him a prime victim for the Feeder.

He still couldn't believe the Feeder had hitched a ride to the motel. What were the chances of that? With a horrifying thought, Dean sat up- too quickly and the room spun. He put his hand on his head as he waited for the dizziness to pass and felt Sam appear at his side.

"What's wrong? Lie down."

The dizziness abating, Dean shook his head and slowly stood up. Sam worked against him, "Dean. Lie down. What are you doing? What do you need?"

Dean spoke to his brother as he put on his jacket, "That thing was in my car Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes looking somewhat annoyed, "What are you kidding? Dean. Lie back down. Where the hell are you going?"

Dean walked his way to the door, "Where the hell do you think I'm going? I'm not letting that piece of crap's blood- or whatever- soak into my seats another minute."

Sam limped after his brother, "Dean. Stop. I'll do it." Outside the motel, Sam stopped in front of his brother, "I'll clean the car Dean. Okay? Just do me a favor and relax for a while?"

Dean nodded, "Fine, man. You can do it." Then walked over to a bench along the outside of the motel and sat facing the Impala.

Sam threw up his hands, exasperated, "Now what are you doing?"

Dean looked up and motioned to the car, "Dude…I'm waiting for you to start cleaning."

"You're going to watch?"

Dean shook his head and corrected him, "Supervise."

Sam took a calming breath, "You trust me to hunt on my own, but not clean the Impala's seats…"

Dean nodded, "Damn straight. Now are you gonna clean them or what?" Sam stared at his brother in disbelief.

Finally Dean broke the stare, pointing at the car. "Soaking Sam…evil blood soaking into the leather…infecting it with its evil aura…"

"Okay, okay." Sam held up his hands to stop his brother's tirade. Closing his eyes and breathing deep, he shook his head. Dean could really try his patience. He walked towards the car and gathered cleaning supplies from the trunk. "I'm cleaning. Okay?"

Dean smiled in smug approval. This was the way it should be. Dean sitting back, supervising, while Sam cleaned for him…just like old times. Sam may have saved his life tonight and Sam may have grown into a skilled hunter, but Dean had a responsibility. He couldn't have all that going to Sammy's head. After all, Dean was still the big brother and no matter how independent, competent, experienced, or knowledgeable Sammy got- he still had his place…

* * *

_I know- Dean angst- go figure. Hopefully it was okay. Thank you again to everybody who stuck with this story. Hopefully it was wirth the effort and the ending didn't disappoint. And thank you for all the reviews and support- this is such a fabulous community..._


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